


Trying to Remember How it Feels (To Have a Heartbeat)

by phantasizeit



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, Magical Realism, Panic Attacks, Spooky Week, Suicide mention, Supernatural Elements, don't worry its really cute too, ghost au, im making this sound a lot sadder than it is, the suicide mention is just in passing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-23 05:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12500288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantasizeit/pseuds/phantasizeit
Summary: Dan moves into a new apartment in London and, though it’s a step up from his old apartment, his landlord gives him strange warnings while he’s touring the place-- something about the last renters leaving because of ghost sightings. But, Dan doesn’t believe in the supernatural. He quickly changes his tune when he meets Phil Lester, the ghost haunting his apartment. Well, if haunting means quickly becoming the best friend he’s ever had.(Title from Harry Styles' song Two Ghosts)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of my Spooky Week Special! This fic is almost 100% already written and I plan on updating it every day until Halloween. Please note that, although this fic has the warning of major character death, it is not in any way graphic.

Dan woke up that morning in a mood, which is never a good thing when you’re supposed to do something particularly adult-y. Something like tour a new apartment because the one you’re currently living in is literally falling apart at the seams and your neighbors drill ridiculous DIY projects at all hours of the day. Dan’s YouTube channel had been doing pretty well lately, too, and he could finally afford a better apartment. He had made it hard on himself in the beginning by refusing to get a roommate, but he liked his space. It didn’t matter, anyway, it was finally time for him to move up in the world and trade his current hamster cage for a slightly bigger one. And yet, there Dan was, the morning of an apartment tour, on his third coffee, and still feeling like someone had hit him over the head and shoulders while he was sleeping. Sickly sweet Starbucks lattes weren’t even touching his exhaustion; it was that serious. So maybe that’s why, later when Dan was touring this potential apartment, he couldn’t be bothered with the stupid things that were coming out of the landlord’s mouth.

The white, middle aged man, who had introduced himself as Paul, had just closed the door to the master bedroom and was leading Dan to the kitchen when he glanced back at Dan. “Yeah, I just want to give you full, fair warning. The last renters left because they kept seeing a ghost.”

“You don’t say?” Dan hid his eye roll, answering uninterestedly. He didn’t know what the landlord was playing at, but ghosts didn’t exist and this was a nice apartment. He couldn’t be scared away from it. It was an old building, but it had recently been renovated and featured new, shiny appliances. The space wasn’t huge, but it would work perfectly for a 26 year old, single YouTuber. It had a great view of the city and an elevator to aid in the moving process. 

“Yeah, ghosts! I mean, I never saw any ghosts, but I do get a weird feeling when I walk around here.” Paul rambled on and Dan leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at him. “From what I hear, the last landlord that owned this property didn’t carefully inspect the place and it ended in some poor bloke dying. Not really sure how; it was back in 2010. But, obviously, everything’s ship shape now.” The man trailed off, gazing around at nothing in particular. 

“Uh huh,” Dan answered politely, but distractedly, crouching down to look at the controls on the impressive-looking stove. He wasn’t really listening.

“Oh, yeah! The stove is new and state-of-the-art--” as the landlord barreled into more information about the admittedly nice stove, Dan totally forgot about the weirdo’s ghost comments. 

***

A week later, Dan was moving into his new apartment. He had spent a few days weighing his options, but had ultimately decided to apply for the flat that Paul had showed him. The application had been accepted quickly and now Dan was staring at his new home with a large, heavy cardboard box in his arms. Thankfully, his parents and younger brother were kind enough to give up their Saturday to help Dan out. They were hoping to get it all done in a day. Dan glanced back toward the street and felt overwhelmed by all of the boxes, furniture, and stuff in the moving van. As he made trip after trip from moving van to apartment, he felt increasingly thankful for the elevator in the building. 

Dan, his parents, and younger brother were in and out of the apartment all morning with boxes and furniture. “Fuck, Dan, when did you get so much shit?” Alex collapsed on the sofa that the four of them had finally fit it into the far corner of the lounge. He glared at Dan, who just rolled his eyes at his moody teenaged brother. Dan couldn’t really say much; he was moody too when he was sixteen. Dan was just glad that he didn’t start his YouTube channel until later in his life. Less cringe-worthy stuff on the internet, that way. 

“Sorry Lexy,” Dan put emphasis on his little brother’s childhood nickname, “How about you let me know what I don’t need and I’ll bin it. Would that make you happy?”

Alex puffed out a breath, “Yeah, start with the shoes. You have enough to make the average girl jealous.”

Dan crossed his arms, “sexist little punk.” 

“Self-absorbed twat.”

“Wanker.”

“Assho--” 

“Boys! Enough.” Their mum suddenly appeared at the opening to the lounge, looking at her offspring disappointedly. “Daniel, you’re 26, you should know better.” Dan looked down at his toes, feeling more remorseful that he was 26 and was still being disciplined by his mum. Alex just looked smug, until their mum turned to him and crossed her arms. “Alex, Daniel is your older brother and he needed our help today. So don’t complain. We’re family, we help each other. That’s what family does.” Alex rolled his eyes in response. 

Dan collapsed next to Alex, letting a sigh escape his lips. “Thanks for helping me, you guys. Even though some of us are annoying little pillocks who should be locked in a room until their bodies are no longer being ravaged by hormones--” he looked pointedly at Alex-- “I really appreciate the help.” 

“Well, of course you need help, it’s not like you can afford movers on a YouTuber’s salary.” Alex snipped, shoving his shoulder against Dan. 

Their mum looked between them with exasperation, throwing her hands up. “I give up! Brothers! So nasty to each other!” She turned around, exiting the flat to get more boxes. Alex giggled.

Dan looked at him unbelievingly. “Did you really just giggle?”

Alex met his stare with furrowed brows, “No, I didn’t fucking giggle. Why would I giggle? The only funny thing here is your career path.” Alex shoved himself off the couch, “come on, you lazy fuck. You aren’t gonna pass all the work off on us.”

“Will you stop being such a prick?” Dan also pushed himself off the couch, already forgetting about the giggle that he had very clearly heard. Instead, he was thinking about offering to order pizza for everyone so they could have a much-deserved lunch break. 

***

Later that night, Dan worked in his new bedroom, making his bed and unloading the boxes that had been haphazardly stacked about. The whole process of bringing in his stuff had taken the better part of the day and then his family stuck around to help Dan start to unpack. They didn’t really get far with it, before Dan was insisting that he could handle the unpacking part and that his family had done enough for him. Of course, Alex had made a relieved sassy comment that Dan had ignored and Dan’s mum checked and double-checked that Dan was ok to do it alone. Dan’s dad suggested going out to dinner and everyone had been more than happy to comply. 

His family left long ago and Dan was alone in the apartment. It seemed so big and empty. Every footstep seemed to echo. Dan hated new places. It would get better when his stuff was unpacked and arranged. Until then, Dan just blasted some Vampire Weekend and rifled around in the boxes marked ‘bedroom.’ Whenever Dan moved somewhere new, he set his bedroom up first. The bed was the most important thing, especially since it was pushing 10:00 PM and Dan had gotten up disgustingly early that morning. After the bed was made, Dan went through the process of setting up his computer. Connecting to the internet was blessedly easy, but that was because the internet provider had already been in a couple days ago to install the router and ethernet jacks. Dan had stressed to them how important it was to get everything sorted and they had complied.

Fixing up his bedroom also included building his video background, which was always one of his favorite spaces to decorate. Of course, the iconic butt chair was there. He hung fairy lights around his bed frame and delicately put various knick knacks on display on his bedside table. Posters were hung, clothes were folded and stuffed into his chest of drawers, books were fitted into his new bookshelf, bedsheets were smoothed down, and slowly the boxes disappeared. Dan broke them down and slid them in the hallway, promising himself to take care of the pile rather than trip on it for the next two weeks. Before Dan knew it, it was 1:30 AM and he was crashing, quickly. 

Dan silenced Ezra Koenig and tore off his clothes, changing into soft pajama bottoms. He lay down on his bed, groaning at the feeling of his aching body sinking into a blessedly comfy memory foam mattress. Dan had paid a small fortune for the bed, but it had been so worth it. He slept like a baby in it. Dan got out his phone, checking his social media accounts for any important updates. He reblogged some fanart on tumblr, watched some of his friends new YouTube videos, and liked some tweets. Dan himself tweeted, ‘of course the first thing i set up in the new flat is my bed. it’s where all the magic happens and by magic i mean sleep.’ Dan spent a few minutes replying with sassy comments to fans, before feeling his eyelids start to drift closed.

“Ugh, the lights. Gotta get the lights.” Dan murmured to himself, forcing his eyes open. He rolled to the left, aiming to get out of the bed, when the lights were suddenly off. Dan perked his head up, looking around in the room that had just been plunged in darkness. He couldn’t see a thing. He groaned, thinking about how he would already have to contact the landlord about electricity problems. “Stupid faulty electricity,” Dan pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. “Whatever, it can wait until morning.” Dan pushed the bedcovers down, wiggling under them. They were barely over his body when sleep overtook him. 

Dan slept late and when his eyes finally cracked open, the sun was obnoxiously brightening the room. Dan put ‘dark curtains’ on his mental shopping list and pushed the covers off his body. He lay there for a second, observing the ceiling (and praising the lack of cracks in it). 

Moments later, his feet touched the floor and he remembered the electricity the previous night. Curious, Dan pushed himself out of bed and padded over to the light switch on the wall. He flicked it experimentally and watched the overhead lights come on and off, on and off. They were working perfectly. There must have been a brief, scarily coincidental, power outage the previous night.

Dan went into the kitchen and made a coffee and popped some toast into the toaster, thanking both his past self for packing some food to sustain him as he moved in, and his mother for unpacking the food immediately. Dan got out his phone as he waited for his breakfast and sent a quick text to his mum. ‘Bless you for unpacking my food.’ She sent him a heart emoji without hesitation and asked him about his first night. He made light conversation about unpacking and sleeping, but quickly said goodbye to her in favor of breakfast. 

Dan opened up the notes app in his iPhone, looking at the list of video ideas he had going. Although he had tons of unpacking to do, he was due for a new video soon. He didn’t want to spend a lot of time with a script or with editing, so he figured it was time for another video in his “Quick and Dirty with Dan” series. For these videos, he would essentially set up a camera and rant/ philosophize about a subject for five minutes. He only edited out the “um’s.” They were fun. People cared about his opinions on things, surprisingly. Dan composed a quick tweet: ‘any requests for a quick n dirty?’ and he watched the responses flood in. Of course, plenty of his fans suggested lewd things, inspired by the name of the series. Several tweets said ‘Donald Trump’ and there was no way that Dan was going to fall down that hole. Dan scrolled through his replies, munching on a bite of buttered toast. One tweet jumped out at him and he thumbed the text, liking it. ‘Talk about your experience with/ opinion about the supernatural! Like ghosts, not the show lolol.’ Immediately, Dan recalled the weird conversation he had with Paul the landlord about the ghost that apparently haunted this apartment. It would be a perfect story to include in his video. 

When his toast was eaten and cup of coffee was drained, Dan tottered back to his bedroom, maneuvering around boxes. Dan made his bed and changed into his signature black outfit. He set up his camera and lighting equipment and sat down in his chair, checking the viewfinder to make sure that his video background looked agreeable. Dan pressed record, speaking his regular greeting of “Hello internet!” and barreling into the topic of the supernatural. 

Three or four hours later, the video was being uploaded onto YouTube. Dan’s more scripted videos took much longer to create, which was why he really liked this series. Dan left the video to do its thing and went to unpack the kitchen, blasting Britney Spears and singing along badly. “Toxic” came on and Dan picked up a wooden spoon, holding it to his mouth and purring out the first words of the song, “baby, can’t you see?” He danced around the kitchen. About halfway through the song, Dan noticed that he was hearing double. There was another voice under Britney’s that wasn’t his own. It wasn’t a particularly good voice, either. It missed some of the notes entirely. Dan furrowed his brow and picked up his phone, checking that Spotify hadn’t accidentally given him a weird, cover version of the song. It hadn’t. Dan paused it and silence enveloped the kitchen. He pressed play again and the song was back to normal, Britney back to her sensual self. Dan felt a little unnerved, thinking about the electricity and the weird mystery voice. He considered exploring the apartment a little, checking closets and corners for possible squatters. In the end, he didn’t do anything of the sort, laughing at himself instead. He needed to get the place set up, then maybe Dan wouldn’t feel so jumpy. 

Dan paused Britney and checked the status of his video. He was surprised to find that it had already uploaded successfully. He was impressed with the internet speed. He scrolled through YouTube comments, liking a few clever ones. He rarely replied to YouTube comments, unless one was especially funny. He didn’t find any funny ones, but did notice quite a few that looked exactly identical. 

‘Umm wtf ghost at 1:33??????’

‘YOU BETTER BELIEVE IN GHOST STORIES, DANIEL, YOU’RE IN ONE!!!11! 1:33’

‘1:33 Ghost. Ghost. Ghost.’

‘Seriously, what the fuck is that at 1:33??’

Dan rolled his eyes at the comments. These weren’t new on the world of YouTube. People loved creepy things and once one person commented a timestamp and a ghost sighting, it was like a disease. Dan clicked the timestamp on one of the comments, fully expecting a shadow or stuffed animal falling over. 

Instead, Dan felt like his heart stopped. 

He paused the video. He suddenly felt hot, heat prickling across every inch of his skin. In the video, in the dark doorway of his bedroom, there was an unmistakable figure. A man. He was barely a glimmer, but, boy, was he there. 

Dan stared at the screen, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. There was literally no fucking reasonable explanation for what he was seeing. Dan tried to rationalize it, but was coming up with nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Instead, he was thinking about the landlord’s comments, the mysterious giggle that he thought was Alex, the electricity problem, the strange voice he heard while singing “Toxic.” Dan started shaking. He was afraid to play the video and watch what the figure would do. But he had to. Curiosity ate at him. Slowly, shakily, Dan pressed play and watched the entryway. The man looked up at Dan in the video. Dan blanched at the man’s pale skin, dark hair, and piercing eyes. He didn’t look unfriendly, watching Dan with curiosity. In the video, Dan was saying something about “the idea of ghosts scaring the diddly heck out of him,” and Dan saw the ghost’s mouth quirk up in a smile, before he was simply phasing out of frame. 

Dan paused the video and released a breath that he had been holding.

“Sorry for intruding on your video.” Dan screamed, actually screamed, jerking violently in his chair. It pitched back and he crashed to the floor. The room echoed with the sound of the loud crash and Dan felt momentarily dazed. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering if someone had slipped him hallucinogenic drugs without him knowing. Alex would probably get a kick out of doing something like that. Suddenly, a figure came into Dan’s view, looking at Dan upside down. It was the figure from the video. The ghost? The hallucination? Dan’s eyes widened at the man. He looked… concerned. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Are you all right?” Dan noticed the voice had a Northern tinge, and now was really not the time to notice such a fucking stupid detail.

“Me? I-I-- well, I-I. Are y-you? Ghost? Who, who, who are you?” Dan stuttered pathetically, trembling all over. He felt cold and hot at the same time. He wondered briefly if he had a fever. Maybe he hadn’t woken up yet and this was a dream. 

The figure covered his translucent face in equally translucent hands. “Oh god, I’ve really muffed this up. Of course you would be frightened.” He removed his hands from his face and stared down at Dan. “Won’t you get up? We could go to the lounge? I’ll introduce myself properly!” 

Dan just lay there, trembling. He blinked his eyes over and over, willing the ghost to disappear. He wasn’t awake. He was asleep. This was a dream. He pinched himself. It didn’t work. He slapped himself in the face. Nothing happened. 

“Hey! Don’t hit yourself!” Dan jumped again. He stared into a pair of ghosts eyes a moment longer and decided that he should at least pick himself off the floor. He did so, probing the back of his head and wincing at the tender spot that was definitely bruised. Methodically, he picked the chair up off the ground and tucked it under the desk, trying to breathe evenly. It was a losing battle. Finally, Dan snapped, and the floodgates opened. He began breathing harder, the unmistakable feeling of panic sweeping over his body. He felt lightheaded and numb. Dan sat down on the floor, hard, breath coming faster and faster. He pushed himself against the wall of his bedroom, trying to get as far away from the ghost as possible. His breath wheezed out of him, specks of spit flying out of his mouth. Dan pressed his head in between his knees as he lost feeling in his fingers. He didn’t feel real. He was terrified. What was happening to him? “Hey, hey, now. It’s ok. God, I’m so sorry, Dan. It’s ok. Breathe. Slowly, slowly now.” Dan knew that the voice was coming from the object of his fears, but it was good advice. He tried his best to take it, trying to control his lungs. He used every trick he had learned throughout his life of living with anxiety. He imagined that his lungs had legs and were running away and he imagined himself running after them, catching them in his hands. He listened to the soothing repetition of “it’s ok, shh, slowly now” coming from the mouth of the fucking ghost across from him. Dan picked up his heavy hands and brought them up to his own neck, dragging his fingers along the sensitive skin there. Anything to ground him. Anything to make him feel real again. Minutes later, Dan’s breathing began to slow. He focused hard on forcing it to stay slow. “There ya go, good. I’m not a bad guy. I couldn’t hurt a fly, I promise.” 

Dan looked up at the ghost who had crouched down in front of Dan’s crumpled form. He would have looked like a completely normal guy, if not for the see-through skin and the slightly hovering body. This was the first time Dan was getting a good look at him and he was surprised, to say the least. The man in front of him was more like a boy. He had long, black hair that was cut into a style resembling cool 2007 emo myspace kids. Interestingly enough, he was sporting a worn, blue shirt and grey sweatpants. He had piercing blue eyes. “You’re a ghost.” Dan’s voice was shaky and monotone. He felt exhausted. Dan realized that his face was wet with tears. When he had a panic attack, he often couldn’t tell the difference between hyperventilating and sobbing. It all blended into one disastrous experience. 

The figure looked embarrassed and Dan thought he saw the ghost’s face turn red. “I am a ghost. I’m sorry.” The ghost scratched at the back of his head. “Dan, I feel terribly. I should have realized that you would have reacted like this. I accidentally drove the last renters out and I never even purposefully revealed myself to them. God, I’m just an idiot. I just couldn’t believe that you were a YouTuber and I got so excited to see the camera and--” 

“--Ok, ok. It’s, um, ok, I guess.” Dan cut the ghost off. He blew out a shaky breath. “How do you, um, know my name?” 

The ghost looked embarrassed again. “Oh, I heard your family call you Dan. That sounds so creepy. Sheesh,” he refused to meet Dan’s eyes. “I wish I could leave you alone forever, but I-- uh-- am kinda tethered to this place. Can’t leave.”

Dan nodded slowly, deciding that, if this was happening and this was reality, he might as well be cordial. “Oh. Well, do you have a name?”

Phil clapped his hand over his face and Dan couldn’t help but jump a little, body still on edge. “I’m really cocking this up. Yes of course I have a name, I’m so rude. Phil Lester, at your service!” Phil stuck his hand out at Dan who just stared at it. Phil slowly retracted it, “sorry, habit.” The ghost coughed, “sorry.” 

“Right. Um.” Dan chewed his lip and stared at Phil with wide eyes. What was the proper etiquette when it came to ghosts? He couldn’t offer Phil some tea and cakes, for chrissakes. Dan suddenly remembered something Phil had said only seconds before. “You know YouTube? How?”

Phil smiled a sad smile and crossed his legs. He looked like a monk who had achieved enlightenment with his hovering. “I had a channel back in the day. I had a lot of fun with it.” Phil stared at his legs, picking at the fabric covering his knee. 

“Oh! Wow, you were a YouTuber?” Dan couldn’t hide his disbelief. What were the odds that the ghost tethered to his new apartment had also been a YouTube when he was alive? Dan wasn’t even going to dwell on how weird that sentence was. “What was your username?” 

Phil met his eyes and smiled shyly, “oh, um, it was amazingphil.” Dan raised his eyebrows. “I know, I know. I made it in 2006.” 

“That’s fair; everyone had quirky usernames back in the day.” Dan remembered his first youtube channel name and was briefly thankful that he never made a single video on it. He couldn’t imagine what kind of professional life he could have with a name like ‘danisnotonfire.’ 

“Yeah, I guess. But mine was particularly silly, huh?” 

“Not as bad as danisnotonfire,” Dan said, laughing a little.

“That’s your channel name?!” 

“Oh no, no. But it was the account I made when I was 16. I never used it to make videos, thank god.” Silence followed Dan’s comment and he was struck by the sudden realization that he was having a fucking conversation with a ghost. “Hey-- did you turn off the lights last night?” Dan tilted his head to the side slightly and Phil looked abashed.

“Um, ah, yeah. You had just worked so hard and looked so comfy. I just flicked them off for you, it wasn’t hard.” Phil cleared his throat, “electricity is one those things that I can manipulate.” 

Dan hummed to himself. “So you were watching me last night?”

Phil’s eyes widened. “Sorry! Sorry! Bad habit! I don’t see many people. It’s just nice to--” He cut himself off. “I think it’s about time for me to leave you alone. You need some space,” Phil nodded to himself, “I need to get out of your space.” 

“Phil! Phil, wait! I still have--” and then the ghost was gone, as quick as he had appeared. “--questions.” Dan finished lamely. 

Dan looked around his bedroom, almost surprised to find that it hadn’t changed; only Dan’s perception of it had. Everything was too bright and crystal clear, like he had been swimming underwater with his eyes open until that moment. Dan shakily got up off the floor and made his way to the bed, collapsing on it. He didn’t bother to put on different clothes or get under the covers. So, a ghost was haunting his new apartment. What was he supposed to do about that? Let the landlord know? The landlord already knew; he had bloody warned Dan. Tell his parents? His subscribers? Well, his subscribers had already seen it. Curious, Dan pulled his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled through his replies on Twitter. The ghost was literally the only thing that any of them were talking about. Dan checked the views on his video and his mouth dropped open. It was almost to one million views, which was pretty normal for him, but it always took a couple of days for the views to add up to a million. His video was going viral. Dan locked his phone and placed it on the bedside table. What was he supposed to do about this? He began to drift asleep, the exhaustion of his panic attack weighing him down into the mattress. Phil had been a YouTuber when he was alive; maybe Dan would ask him his opinion. Before Dan could consider how odd of a concept it was, he was asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

When Dan woke up, it was completely dark outside. Dan pushed himself up on his elbows, momentarily reflecting on what a weird dream he had. There had been an emo ghost, a panic attack, a viral video. It had all felt so real.

“Good morning sleeping beauty!” Dan jumped and his head snapped up to the source of the voice. So it wasn’t a dream, then. Phil was sitting at Dan’s computer chair. Hovering over his computer chair. Despite the hovering, the office chair was spinning around and Phil was giggling gleefully. “Or should I say, good night?” 

“I thought you could only manipulate electricity?” Dan adopted a cool voice, deciding the only course of action was to hide his fear. Phil didn’t seem dangerous at any rate.

“Oh, no! Objects are a little harder, but I’ve had tons of practice over the years. From what I understand, ghosts get stronger the longer they're around. Of course, I’ve only learned this from experimenting. When I first, ah, became a ghost, I couldn’t even manifest myself physically.”

Dan looked thoughtfully at Phil, considering his physical form. “So, you have to purposefully manifest yourself?”

The spinning stopped and Phil looked back at Dan. “Yeah. It used to take a lot of concentration and I could only do it for a couple minutes at a time. Now, I don’t really have to think about it. After that, I started experimenting with electricity. I can strengthen wifi signals, too.” Phil grinned, “I’m a pretty handy roommate!”

Dan pinched the bridge of his nose, “I can’t say I’ve ever wanted a roommate.”

“What?” Phil’s eyes widened comically. “I’ve only ever wanted a roommate! It’s been so boring to be alone in this place! I love when Paul brings new people around.”

Dan’s stomach growled loudly and he thought about what was in his fridge at the moment. It wasn’t much; mostly various sauces and condiments. Dan took out his iPhone and opened up the app to order Indian takeaway. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Phil disappearing from the office chair. 

“Meep! that iPhone is so thin and the screen’s so big!” Dan flinched and whipped his head to look at Phil, now sitting cross-legged on the bed next to him. His first thought was a panicked string of swears at Phil’s sudden appearance. His second thought was that Dan couldn’t believe there was a ghost in his apartment that said ‘meep’ unironically. “Oops, sorry! Transporting is another bad habit I have. I’ll walk around like an alive person.”

“S’ok,” Dan mumbled, thumbing around on his app. “But, yeah, I guess you haven’t seen an iPhone in a while.”

“Not up close! Oh man, look at it! May I?” Phil held out his hand and Dan looked at it nervously.

“Will you be able to hold it?” 

“I think so! It’s not really hard for me to hold objects anymore, but if I drop it, it’ll just go on the bed. Just don’t give me a baby!” Phil giggled and Dan slowly placed the iPhone in Phil’s palm. The ghost looked down at it and scanned the app that Dan was interacting with. “Indian food, huh? Yum.” Dan scrutinized Phil’s face. It looked sad. “I used to love Indian food,” he whispered. 

“Do you want to order for me?” Dan asked, trying to get the smile back on Phil’s face and not really understanding why he cared. 

“Can I?!” Phil’s eyes were round, all sadness had been obliterated from their depths. Dan couldn’t help but chuckle, albeit a little uncomfortably. 

“Of course. It’s nothing special for me, but you haven’t hand a phone in your hand since--” Dan cut himself off, realizing he had no idea when Phil had died. Was it polite to ask? If their places were switched, Dan would probably find his own death to be a sensitive point of conversation.

“2010,” Phil murmured back, completely lost in the application. If he thought a food app was captivating, Dan couldn’t wait to show him Crossy Roads. Dan thought back to 2010. What was he doing then? Starting his first year at uni and working on a law degree. That had only lasted a year before Dan had realized how miserable he was. He had taken a year out and never gone back.

“2010 was when I made my first YouTube video,” His channel had steadily taken off to Dan’s complete surprise. At first, he had worked other odd jobs to be able to afford his crappy first apartment, but as his channel grew in popularity, he was able to rely solely on YouTube. Dan smiled fondly; all in all, 2010 had been a beginning for him. The smile dropped off his face when he realized that it had been an end for Phil.

Phil nodded politely. “That’s really cool. What year is it now?” Phil held the phone back out to Dan. The food had been ordered and the estimated time of arrival on the screen read 30 minutes.

“Oh! It’s 2017. It’s May.”

“Hmm. Almost summer? Autumn is my favorite, though, mostly because of Halloween.” Phil gripped his feet and rocked back and forth on his bum. The ghost was growing on Dan. He might even call him adorable; but it was pretty weird to find a ghost to be endearing, wasn’t it?

“I love halloween, too. I’ve always wanted to do a baking video or something for my channel. But it doesn’t really fit the Daniel Howell aesthetic.” Dan did air quotes with his fingers. “So I’ve never done one.”

“You should! That would be something I’d wanna watch.” Phil flopped back on the bed, pulling his feet up with him. 

“Maybe,” Dan said, knowing full well that he probably wouldn’t. He probably wouldn’t even put it on Daniel Howell 2, his second channel. He might livestream him trying something that he had baked on YouNow, but people probably wouldn’t be interested. Dan had always felt like there was a specific video that his viewer wanted to see from him and, if he wanted to stay relevant, that was the type of video he would put out. Wanting to change the subject, Dan pulled up Crossy Roads on his iPhone. “Now, Phil, do I have something to show you!” 

The two boys, one alive and one dead, played Crossy Roads back and forth until Dan’s food showed up. Dan had always been competitive and it didn’t help that Phil had declared this to be a “DAN VS PHIL! 3 ROUNDS EACH, BRING IT ON, DANIEL!” Dan’s head was in his hands after immediately killing his korean barbeque character by jumping into a bus, and getting a score of three, when his doorbell rang. He left the phone with Phil and ran to get his food, stomach grumbling loudly. He set everything up on the dining room table and only jumped a little when Phil was suddenly there, sitting at one of the chairs. 

“59! Hah, I win!” Phil proclaimed, placing the phone on the table and spinning it around for Dan to see. 

Dan glanced at it and huffed. “Fine, I call hacks.”

“Sore loser!”

“Sore winner!”

Phil giggled and watched Dan eat. “God, I miss eating. Or being able to smell it, at least.”

Dan nodded sympathetically, mentally filing away the detail in his folder labeled ‘ghost facts.’ He figured that it was easier to learn about Phil and live with him, rather than try to ignore him. The fear he had for the ghost was slowly draining away, only leaving the recognition that he seemed like a cool guy. Dan was open-minded. Sure his whole concept of reality had been shaken to the very core and he would probably have an existential crisis about it later, but for now, he was contented to make conversation. Dan suddenly remembered the video he had made this afternoon that brought them to this point. He groaned. “Phil, we have a problem.”

“What’s that?” Phil looked at him anxiously, the iPhone spinning in front of him. Dan tried not to stare at the supernatural trick being done way too casually right in front of him.

“Well, the video you showed up in is going viral. Everyone is tweeting me, expecting that I’ve been viciously murdered.”

“Oh, um, that is a problem.” Phil bit his lip, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Hey! I know! You could reveal to everyone that it was a hoax? A clever editing trick?” 

Dan nodded thoughtfully. It was a pretty smart idea. It was totally unlike Dan to do anything of the sort, but he could bullshit another video, claiming that it was a social experiment about virality and people’s belief in the supernatural and blah blah blah. Dan told Phil his idea and the ghost nodded enthusiastically. “Perfect! That way, you’ll have your viral hit, your fans won’t feel too betrayed, and you don’t have to explain that there’s an actual ghost in your apartment.” Phil giggled. “Imagine that video!”

Dan laughed with the ghost. “Yeah, I’d do it like a vlog! A Day in the Life of Dan and Ghost Phil.” Dan reached across the table and grabbed the spinning phone, holding it up over his head and pretending to vlog: “Hey internet! Dan here! And I’m joined by none other than the late amazingphil. He’s decided to collab with me beyond the grave.” Phil’s giggles turned into body-bouncing belly laughs and Dan could have sworn he saw tears leaking down the ghost’s cheeks. 

“What can I say? I’m was just dying to collab with you, Dan.” Phil forced the pun out between gasping breaths and chuckles. 

Dan dropped his phone and groaned loudly into his hands. “Nooo, that’s was so bad! I hate you.” Dan peeked through his fingers to watch Phil’s tongue poke out between his teeth. The two boys’ laughter slowly died down and Dan shoveled food into his mouth. “I’m making puns with a ghost right now.” Dan blinked a couple times, wondering if the image of Phil would disappear.

Phil looked on sympathetically. “It’s gotta be weird.” 

“It is.” Dan looked thoughtful. “But not a bad weird.” Phil looked hopeful. Dan wondered how he-- someone whose biggest fear was of the supernatural-- could be so cool with this. Only a few hours before, the apparition had given him a major panic attack. Dan looked back at Phil’s shining eyes and decided it was because Phil was completely harmless. It was silly to have fear for something harmless.

***

Dan’s video explanation of his “hoax” went over relatively well. Only a few of his viewers were really angry, commenting that he was only using them for views. Dan wanted to reply to them and say that most YouTubers made videos in order for people to view them, but decided that he didn’t want to feed the trolls. He was able to continue with life as normal.

Well, as normal as living with a ghost could get. Dan didn’t leave the apartment very often-- why would he? His whole life happened inside the internet. Other than visiting a few friends and grocery shopping, Dan mostly stuck around the flat. This meant that a lot of time was spent with his new roommate. 

Dan had been learning a lot about Phil. They surprisingly had quite a few similar interests. Muse, Studio Ghibli, video games, horror movies, punk pop, Kill Bill. Dan had a blast showing Phil all the movies, shows, and video games he had missed in the seven years that he had been dead. Dan could never get tired of the look of awe on Phil’s face when he commented on the graphics of Fallout 4 or the animation style of Big Hero Six. He was especially interested in how much the internet and YouTube had changed. The fact that people made a living on the video-sharing site. He watched a ton of YouTube, catching up on all the old people he used to be subscribed to and getting acquainted with new YouTubers. Phil expressed his sadness to Dan when he discovered that some of his favorite internet personalities were no longer making videos. 

Dan noticed that Phil didn’t watch any of the ‘goodbye amazingphil’ videos that had been made by fans or fellow YouTubers. Dan had watched a few, but they did nothing but make him sad. Dan was actually surprised that no one had recognized Phil from his Quick and Dirty video, but apparently Phil had been hidden in the shadows just enough for anyone to notice how much the apparition looked like the late amazingphil. Dan was glad; he didn’t want to deal with the wrath of sad fans wondering why Dan would be sick enough to fake edit amazingphil in the corner.

Dan also watched all of Phil’s old videos, finding him very endearing. Phil was a fantastic storyteller and Dan found himself captivated by Phil’s silly life. The videos were obviously old-- the camera quality, editing style, music, and genre. Despite this, Dan still watched every single video. He told himself that it was to get to know his ghost friend better. 

It had been a couple months. Dan had noticed that the two boys talked about everything, except the gigantic elephant in the room. Dan still had no idea how Phil had died. The goodbye videos Dan watched told him nothing; no one seemed to know what had happened to amazingphil, other than an untimely death. It made sense that none of Phil’s family members would think to update a YouTube audience, especially when dealing with their own grief. Dan had googled around a little bit, still finding nothing about the mysterious death of Phil Lester. Dan figured it was rude to ask, but it didn’t stop his curiosity gnawing at him, especially when he discovered that the last video on the amazingphil channel was one shot in this very apartment. Dan had been waiting to watch Phil’s last video because, when he finally watched it, it would mean that there were no more amazingphil videos to watch, which made Dan feel almost empty in a way. 

But, eventually, one day in mid July, he couldn’t take the curiosity. Dan pulled up the video on his phone, put in earphones, and clicked play. He smiled at the title, “The Jellybean Centipede” and the opening shot of Phil biting a balloon. In the video, Phil explained that he had finally gotten his very own apartment. Dan watched the tour of Dan’s current apartment, noticing the differences and similarities. The video wasn’t different from Phil’s others ones-- the lion was still there, Phil still made heart hands at the camera, and he still said lolrandom things. Knowing it was the last video ever on his channel made Dan incredibly sad. He watched the last shot, of Phil sitting on and popping the giant balloon that one of his viewers had given him, over and over again. It was a ridiculous thing to leave YouTube with, but it was so fitting of Phil. Dan scrubbed at a tear that threatened to leave the corner of his eye. He didn’t dare look at the comments.

“Dan! Hey, Dan! Where did you put your copy of Mario Kart for the switch?” Phil floated into Dan’s room, standing at the foot of his bed. Phil had been better about not transporting randomly, moving around more naturally for Dan’s sake. Dan slammed the phone face down onto his bed. “Oh, are you ok? I didn’t interrupt something did I?” Phil looked embarrassed and looked down at his multi-colored, mismatched socks.

“Phil, how did you die?” Dan slapped his hand over his mouth, eyes widening in shock. Phil’s head jerked up to look at Dan. 

“Dan…” It almost sounded like a warning. It was the only time in these short months that Dan felt nervous around Phil.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, you can’t expect me not to be curious. You were 23 when you died, right? That’s so young. You had just gotten a new apartment. You finished school. Your YouTube channel was doing really well. What happened?” 

“Dan, really, I--”

“You were 23! Only three years younger than me now. That’s scary, Phil. So fucking scary. I think about dying all the time. I think about what I’m contributing to the world and I stress about what I’m doing with my life--”

“--Please, Dan--” 

“--but I only ever think about dying when I’m really old. And then you come along and you were 23 and you won’t even tell me what happened! I thought we were friends and--”

“Dan!” Dan jumped, looking at Phil. His voice had turned loud, deep, powerful, and a little bit unhinged. The lights in Dan’s bedroom flickered and papers swirled around the room, surrounding the ghostly figure in a whirlwind of paper. He slowly rose higher and higher off the ground, until he was looking down at Dan. Phil sounded and looked every bit of the ‘scary horror movie ghost’ in that moment and Dan was practically shitting himself. “I’m serious, I don’t want to talk about this.” 

Dan started shaking, not recognizing the eyes of his ghost friend. They had gone dark, emphasizing the paleness of Phil’s undead skin. Shadow patterns danced across his unnatural face. “Y-yeah. S-s-sorry Phil. I’ll stop, p-please, don’t hurt me.”

Papers fluttered down to the floor and the lights came back on. Phil dropped to the floor, his eyes cleared, and the shadows left his face. He looked guilty. “No,” Phil whispered, staring at Dan with shining eyes. “Please understand this, Dan, I’d never hurt you.” Dan pushed off the bed, trembling violently. He wasn’t going to have another panic attack. He wasn’t going to have another panic attack.

“Of course you won’t. It’s ok, Phil. I’m going to just, just.” Dan ran out of the room, grabbing his keys and wallet from the dining room table. He threw open the front door and rode the elevator down into the lobby of the building. Outside, he immediately felt sweat spring to his skin in the hot London summer air. Desperately, he tried to reign in his lungs and breathe evenly. He never knew that Phil could get so scary. Maybe Dan should be careful with the ghost. Maybe he should be afraid of him. 

Dan walked aimlessly for hours, going nowhere in particular, but relishing the occasional breeze against his face. His apartment had been feeling like an alternate reality, lately. It felt nice to be reminded that nature was still its wonderful, albeit cruel, self. Dan looked around for the first time since leaving the apartment, noticing his surroundings. His feet had taken him to a closeby park. Dan sat down on a bench and stared out at the trees, which were a little creepy in the encroaching dark of the evening. His breathing slowed. He knew that, sooner or later, Dan would have to return to the flat and face Phil. 

He thought back to the conversation that had made Phil so angry. Of course it had made him angry. Dan had asked the ghost about his most painful, personal memory, without even warning Phil that Dan had been thinking about it. Phil had purposefully been skirting around the information and Dan had rudely barreled past his hesitations. Dan felt like a dick. He remembered the flickering lights and whirlwind circling Phil’s rising form. That had been a little unnecessary. And a lot terrifying.

He sighed and heaved himself off the bench. This was silly; he couldn’t run from Phil. They hadn’t had any problems yet. In fact, it had been incredibly nice to finally live with someone, even if that someone had a non-corporeal form. Everyone had their moments, right? Everyone got angry from time to time; of course Phil would have those times as well. It just so happened that Phil had a little more power over the world than the average human. Dan shivered, thinking about Phil flashing him those lifeless eyes again. 

They had already discussed the extent of Phil’s powers, though, and Dan was pretty sure there was nothing Phil could do to hurt Dan. In fact, from what they both understood, Phil could only successfully interact with things that weren’t alive. Things without a heartbeat. Although, Phil hadn’t told Dan what he meant by “successful.” Dan rubbed his arms, the cool evening air chilling the remaining sweat on his skin. He began to trudge back to his flat-- their flat. Dan knew Phil wouldn’t hurt him. Phil was a good person. He was a good friend. Dan had been silly.

Dan arrived back and rode the elevator up to his flat. He pushed the key in and prepared himself for anything: Phil could have completely disappeared, choosing to abandon his physical form for the moment. Phil could be right there waiting at the door, wanting to apologize to Dan. Dan breathed deeply and opened the door, only to be enveloped by the delicious smell of Italian food. Dan looked over into the kitchen to find Phil stirring at a pot on the stove. Ok, Dan wasn’t prepared for that. The ghost turned around at the sound of the front door opening. “Dan! Thank god, I was so worried!” Phil turned down the temperature and bounded over to Dan. Dan would never get used to the way Phil moved; he floated but that didn’t stop him from skipping, running, dancing, and shuffling. His feet just never touched the floor. Phil stopped in front of Dan, reaching out his hands to Dan’s face. “You didn’t have a panic attack did you?” He seemed to catch himself, realizing that there would be no use in trying to touch Dan. His arms dropped to his sides.

Dan melted at the sound of Phil’s concern. “Fuck, Phil, I’m sorry for running away. And I’m sorry for bringing up such a sore subject like an absolute twat. I didn’t have a panic attack; don’t worry.” 

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for going ghost on you.” Phil’s eyes shined and his bottom lip stuck out in the slightest of pouts. Dan focused his eyes on the lip, wondering if Phil even realized how adorable he was sometimes. “I will never ever hurt you. I will try really hard not to be a moody ass.”

“Did you just make a Danny Phantom reference?” Dan whispered, eyes drifting up from Phil’s lips, finally.

“Yes!” Phil clapped gleefully. “Now, I made you dinner to make it up to you. The only thing is you’re gonna have to taste test for me because food tastes like nothing when I put it in my mouth and I want to make sure I put enough garlic in there.” Dan followed his friend into the kitchen, marveling at how the best friend that he had ever had was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy second day of spooky week! If you like the fic, consider giving me a comment or kudo or reblogging it on [tumbles](https://phantasizeit.tumblr.com/post/166796265862/trying-to-remember-how-it-feels-to-have-a) :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dontcha just love spooky week? Hope you enjoy today's installment of the fic :)

Dan and Phil got even closer after their argument. They continued to play video games and watch movies and shows. Dan made YouTube videos and Phil helped with the whole process, itching to edit something again. They fell into a downright psychic rhythm. Phil cooked for Dan. Dan bought Phil things off Amazon, just to see Phil’s eyes shine with delight when Dan shoved Amazon boxes at him. Dan bought him video games, stuffed animals, DVDs, an iPad. Dan tried to convince Phil to make a Twitter account, just to interact with the world again. Phil couldn’t do it; it felt wrong, somehow. Like he was lying to people. His moral compass was much stronger than Dan’s.

Dan, meanwhile, became obsessed ghost research, wanting so much for Phil. Dan wanted to find out why Phil was stuck in one place, unable to float past the entryway of their flat. He wanted to find out why Phil was stuck as a ghost in this life, anyway. Wasn’t there some ‘great beyond’ that Phil was missing out on? 

The problem with ‘ghost research’ was that there were so many crazy people out there who hadn’t even interacted with a single ghost, trying to convince the world that there were experts. There was a lot of information to sift through. A lot of suggestions to try that sounded ridiculous. Dan really couldn’t find much information about the questions that he really had, so he had to resort to testing out things that were interesting, but largely unimportant. 

The first ‘fact’ that the two boys decided to test out, was whether or not Phil could change his appearance. They were sitting on the couch; Phil was playing online Mario Kart on the switch (“What happened to lying to people?” “Mario Kart doesn’t count, Dan! Who cares if you’re playing against a ghost?”) Dan was on his macbook, reading a dodgy-looking page called “The Laws of the Poltergeist,” when one of the supposed ‘laws’ peaked his interest. Ghosts are in complete control of their physical manifestation. Most simply choose to continue to look like what they did when they died.

“Phil?” Dan lowered the screen of his laptop, watching Phil’s mii drive around on the Rainbow Road map. 

Distracted, Phil yelped when a red shell hit his car in a direct hit. “Huh? What?” He was in fourth place now.

“Have you ever tried to look different?”

 

“How do you mean?” Phil jerked his head and shoulders, almost as if he was trying to turn his car faster with the help of his body.

“I mean, this site says that ghosts can look like whatever they want to look like. You could look like Sarah Michelle Gellar if you wanted to!” Phil’s character raced toward the finish line, crossing it and locking in fifth place. Phil groaned.

“Oh, um. That would be weird! You couldn’t get me to stop looking in the mirror if I looked like Sarah Michelle Gellar.” 

“You get my point, though. Have you ever tried?”

Phil put down the controller on the couch next to him, gripping his own chin and looking thoughtful. “Ah, no, I guess I haven’t. I never considered trying to look different. I don’t even know where I’d start.” Dan looked down at the same blue shirt and sweatpants that Phil was wearing the day they met. The outfit still confused Dan; in his old videos, Phil usually wore dark jeans and nerdy t-shirts.

“You could start small? Try changing your shirt? I mean, you’ve been wearing nothing but pjs this whole time, how rude.”

Phil smiled, looking down at his worn outfit. “Oh, hmm. I have no idea what I would change it to.”

“Do you want some inspiration?” Dan clicked away on his keyboard, pulling up the Topman site and picking a red flannel shirt. He spun the laptop toward Phil, showing him the shirt. “Try that?” Phil stared at the image, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration.

“I don’t even know what I’m focusing my energy on,” Phil mumbled. Minutes of silence went by and Dan was starting to think that this ‘poltergeist fact’ was crap. Suddenly, he watched with wide eyes as Phil’s blue shirt slowly morphed colors. It turned purple, first. Then red. 

“Phil! You’re doing it!” 

The ghost looked down and saw the red t-shirt. “Hey, wow! Look at that! I mean, it’s not long-sleeved or plaid, but it’s definitely not blue anymore! Do I suit it?” Phil twisted his torso around, proudly showing off the color. Dan looked at Phil in the new shirt, smiling. Dan hadn’t seen the ghost in anything but blue and the sudden change brought out all the wonderful things about Phil’s appearance. His blue eyes and clear, pale skin seemed to glow brighter.

“It looks good, Phil! Damn!” Dan tried to hide the truth of his comments in overexaggerated banter, but Phil still blushed in response. 

“I’ll work on that one. I think with a bit of practice, I could make it so I can change my clothes every day. Like I’m dressing myself again! What was that website you used?”

Dan showed Phil the Topman website and asked his followers to send him some outfit suggestions, ‘for a friend just getting into the world of fashion.’ Dan’s heart glowed with the realization that, slowly, Dan was giving Phil little bits of his humanity back. 

Phil practiced his new found power obsessively. Dan often found Phil in front of a mirror, staring hard at his face with a familiar look of concentration. Often, Dan’s computer would be next to him, propped up on the bathroom sink. Phil quickly gained the ability to easily change his clothes and he loved it. He wore flannel, nerdy tees, button-ups with zany patterns. He tried every suggestion that Dan’s twitter followers sent in, including some utterly ridiculous ones like camouflage dungarees and a shirt with obnoxious tassels. Dan liked when Phil insisted on Dan watching him ‘try on’ outfits. Phil would ask Dan’s opinion and spin around, walking across the lounge like he was on a catwalk. Dan would watch him fondly, showering him with compliments and slowly realizing that he was falling every so slightly in love with a ghost.

Sooner or later, Phil discovered that he could also change his hair. After one memorable afternoon with bright teal hair, Phil stuck to simply changing the length. He wasn’t as experimental with his hair as he was with his clothes. When Dan had asked why, Phil had just replied that, although his haircut was a little out of style, he couldn’t help but feel that he wouldn’t be him without the emo fringe. Dan couldn’t disagree. Phil decided to shorten his hair a little bit, trying the shaved sides look that everyone had in the year 2017. Phil came out of the bathroom one morning after making this particular change and Dan’s mouth actually dropped open. “What, does it not look good? I swear I tried. Maybe I should just stick with the long, emo fringe.”

“No, no, it looks really good. You look older! Like how 30 year-old Phil might look.” Dan stared at his friend, openly gawking. Phil looked really attractive. Dan wondered what their life would be like if things had gone differently. If Dan and Phil had met when they both had heartbeats. He reached out to Phil, wanting to touch his new hair. Phil jerked back, but didn’t do so in time and they made skin-to-ghostly-skin contact.

Dan called out, pain searing through his fingers. They felt like he had stuck them in the snow for hours. “Fuck, oh, ow!” He breathed on his hand, frantically trying to warm his digits. 

“Crap, sorry!” Without thinking, Phil stuck out his hands as if to grab Dan’s, but Dan jerked them away just in time.

“No! That’s not gonna help, you idiot.” Warmth started to return to Dan’s hand and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yeah.” Phil’s voice broke and Dan looked up from his hands, alarmed. He watched a tear escape the corner of Phil’s eye. “I was always a touchy person. I cuddled every person that ever showed me an ounce of affection. Out of all the things that I can’t do anymore, not being able to touch people is the worst.” Dan watched in horror as the tears came faster and spilled down Phil’s cheeks. The ghost wiped them away roughly. 

“Oh, Phil.” Dan didn’t know what to say-- or do, for that matter. How could he comfort someone he couldn’t touch? 

“Sorry for getting emotional. Your hand made mine feel so… warm. I forgot what that felt like.” Phil looked at his hand in wonder. Dan distracted Phil with another outfit suggestion and they didn’t talk about the occurrence.

*** 

After a week of practice, Phil found that he could also morph his face and body. This really made him nervous. He couldn’t shift his appearance drastically (“Dan, the Sarah Michelle Geller dream will have to remain a dream”), but he could age himself up or down. It was like his body knew what to do; Phil just had to think about doing it. Phil didn’t really want to age himself at first, but he slowly grew used to the squarer jaw and the new wrinkles around his eyes that appeared when he concentrated on his true age. He found that he liked being taller, even though he was always still shorter than Dan. He also enjoyed occasionally scaring Dan by appearing seven years old and asking him to “come play with me!”

Dan continued on his quest for ghost facts, but ones that proved to be true weren’t really forthcoming. The two boys tried new experiments with electricity, but gave up after Phil blew out one too many lightbulbs. Phil tried to ‘possess’ objects, but that one was just a complete failure that ended in Phil running into Dan’s wardrobe and knocking a pile of books off the top (“Who puts books on a wardrobe?” “Who tries to possess a wardrobe?”) Phil was too nervous about trying to possess a person. It seemed risky. Dan on the other hand, bothered Phil about it on a regular basis.

One morning in September, Dan was eating a bowl of Crunchy Nut at the dining room table when the subject came up again. “I’m just saying, Phil, if you possess me, you might be able to leave the apartment! Can you imagine that? You could see London! We could fly out to Japan.”

Phil snorted. “You’re way too eager for me to possess you. Is it a secret kink?” 

Dan choked on his cereal, swallowing milk down his windpipe. He coughed. “Phil!”

“I’m just saying.” Dan cleared his throat. Phil always acted so innocent, then pulled these innuendoes from nowhere, completely throwing Dan off. 

After recovering, Dan spooned another mouthful of cereal past his lips. “Hmm… secret kink, eh? I mean, it is the ultimate loss of control. Enter me, dad!”

Phil grinned. Banter between them was like a perpetual tennis match; they were always on the same wavelength, playing off each other’s sense of humor perfectly. Dan often wondered what making a video with Phil would be like. Their chemistry would probably be viral. “I’ll never get used to everyone ironically saying dad in 2017. How does it even make sense?” They sat in companionable silence until Dan was finished with his cereal. He got up and rinsed out the bowl, running a hand through his curly hair, trying to determine if a shower would be necessary. He sat on the kitchen counter.

“I am serious about trying out the possession thing, Phil. If there’s even a little bit of life I can give back to you, I want to.” Dan turned around, leaning against the sink and staring at Phil.

“Dan,” Phil warned quietly. “I’m dead. My life is over and that’s ok. You can’t stop living your life on account of me.”

“I haven’t stopped living my life!” Dan was annoyed. They constantly had this conversation ever since Dan became obsessed with his ghost research; Phil warned Dan not to get too close and lose out on his own life. Dan argued that he wasn’t doing anything different with his life. This is how it always had been; he had an internet job and not many friends. He was an introvert and slight agoraphobe. If anything, Phil had made his life better. “I’m allowed to do what I want with it. I’m allowed to decide that I want to help my ghost friend have a little fun. Why is it any different to be friends with you than it is to be friends with another living person?”

“Because I can’t leave here. I can’t experience the world with you. I can’t make YouTube videos with you, we can’t get a dog together, I can’t steal your cereal, I can’t…” Phil’s words were lodged in his throat. “I can’t touch you, hug you, cuddle you. I can hug everything else in this flat all I want, but not the one thing that I actually want to hug. That’s not friendship, Dan, that’s… where are you going?”

Partway through Phil’s frustrated rant, Dan pushed off the kitchen counter, wondering how they had been so stupid. Phil could hug everything else in this apartment, but Dan! Of course! “Hold on, gotta go get something! Sorry, Phil, this is important!”

“We’re having a serious conversation here, you can’t just run off!” Phil got up and followed Dan to his bedroom, watching with annoyed confusion as Dan rifled through his wardrobe, pulling out a pair of jeans, hoodie, beanie, and gloves. “Is this really the time to get dressed? Are you going outside?”

Dan spun around to face Phil, arms filled with clothes. His eyes were shining with excitement. “You can hug everything in this apartment except me. Phil Lester! You’re a genius!” 

“I still don’t understand? What are you on about?” 

“Put these clothes on and I think you’ll be able to hug me.” Dan thrust the clothes at Phil who looked at them with wide eyes.

Phil’s frustration fell away. “Could that work?!” Phil grabbed the clothing quickly and stabbed his legs through Dan’s jeans, his legs refusing to go fast enough. He scrabbled at the fabric, dropping the waistband in his excitement. “What am I doing? I’m a ghost!” Phil phased through the clothing, letting it settle on his body. It didn’t feel any different than normal, but he was used to having no sense of touch. Completely suited up, Phil paused and stared at Dan. “What do you think it’s gonna feel like?” 

“I don’t know,” Dan whispered. “I just hope it works.”

“Be careful not to touch my face, ok? I don’t want to hurt you.” Dan nodded and Phil tentatively reached out with his gloved hand, touching Dan’s cheek. Phil closed his eyes and smiled. Even through the glove, he could feel Dan’s human warmth. He could feel something! Seven years of nothing, of numbness, and he could feel something. Phil’s eyes opened and he met Dan’s stare. “Does it hurt? Should we stop?”

“It doesn’t hurt. It just feels like I’ve dressed an ice sculpture and now it’s touching me.” Dan smiled and stepped closer to the clothed ghost, holding his arms out.

Phil couldn’t prepare himself for the feeling of stepping into Dan’s arms. He pressed every inch of himself up against Dan, feeling the warmth of him seep through the clothes that separated them. Phil could feel Dan’s heartbeat echoing in his own body. Phil suddenly remembered one time when he was small and he decided to play outside in the snow, without his snowsuit. He stayed out for way too long, the snow melting and seeping through his clothes. When his mum yelled for him to come inside, he was a shivering, wet mess. His mum made him take off all his clothes right in the living room and she wrapped him up in an electric heated blanket and placed him on the sofa. Hugging Dan felt a little bit like that. Except if that warmth had also been the feeling of life and happiness and laughter and home. Phil felt that he might burst from the emotions and sensations crawling across his skin and filling his empty body.

“God, Dan. I can’t even tell you what this feels like.” Dan smiled against Phil’s shoulder, shivering. He couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the overwhelming wave of love that crashed over Dan. They parted and stared at each other. Dan’s hands gripped Phil’s back and Phil’s gloved hands lay on Dan’s shoulders. Dan wanted to tell Phil how he felt. How much he loved him. How much he wished for things to be different. But, he also didn’t want to interrupt this moment and, something in Phil’s blue-green eyes told Dan that Phil understood it all without it having to be said. 

The ghost closed the space between the two boys once more, embracing Dan and getting as close as possible. “Thank you, Dan. Thank you for everything. Thank you.” Phil cried, repeating those two words until Dan couldn’t understand him through his sobs. Dan realized, with an intensity that he had never really experienced before, that he would do anything for Phil. 

When they parted again and Dan rubbed his hands over his arms, trying to warm himself up again, he looked at Phil’s glowing face and said: “You are going to try to possess me.”

***

For days, Phil tried to convince Dan that they shouldn’t try possession. He came up with every possible excuse: it was dangerous, they couldn’t do any research before doing it, they didn’t know what would happen, Dan could get hurt or worse. Dan didn’t seem to care about his own well-being and Phil got more and more frustrated at Dan’s lack of self-preservation. 

“You cannot tell me that you haven’t been itching to leave this apartment for the seven years that you’ve been trapped here!” Dan hadn’t been able to leave the argument alone; he couldn’t go five minutes without bringing it up. Phil groaned loudly. They were cuddling on the couch, both of them wrapped in many layers of Dan’s clothing. Phil’s layers allowed him to touch Dan and Dan’s layers kept him from feeling the life-sucking chill of Phil’s skin. They had been inseparable since discovering the clothing trick. They cuddled on the couch, cooked hip to hip, and hugged randomly and constantly. 

Despite wanting to keep Dan safe, Phil couldn’t keep him at arm's-length; Phil was already addicted to the solid feel of the living boy. The whisper of life that he gave to Phil. And when Phil wasn’t touching Dan, he felt all the more sad, numb, and lifeless. This was the biggest reason why Phil didn’t want to possess Dan. What if he got addicted to Dan’s life? What if he didn’t want to go back to being a numb ghost? What if he went too far and something happened to Dan? Phil would never forgive himself. Phil had been keeping these details to himself, not wanting to frighten Dan.

“I am curious! Of course I want to get out of this bloody apartment that’s been my literal prison for years.” Phil said, frustrated.

“Then I don’t get it. Let’s do this thing.”

“I’m scared.” Phil gripped Dan closer to his chest, thankful that he couldn’t see the boy’s brown, pleading eyes. It was make rejecting him even harder. 

Almost as if reading his mind, Dan pried himself out of Phil’s grip and slipped down onto the floor, staring at Phil. “I’m going to be fine. What’s the worst that can happen?” Dan smiled reassuringly, “I trust you completely.”

“You shouldn’t. I don’t trust myself.” Phil stared past Dan, looking at the wall beyond his shoulder. 

“Phil?” Wanting further explanation, Dan reached out a gloved hand and lightly gripped Phil’s chin, silently asking for Phil’s full attention. Since there was nothing covering that piece of Phil’s body, the chill in Dan’s hand was harsher. He held back a wince. 

Blue eyes met brown. Phil whispered: “You’re addicting. Your presence, your warmth, the life inside of you. I feel--” Phil paused. “I feel like if I got ahold of all of you, I may not want to let go. I may not be able to.”

Dan sat, stunned. Their gazes were locked for a little moment of infinite. Dan searched Phil’s eyes for what he was describing-- selfishness, addiction, a lack of control. Dan shook his head, only finding joy and kindness. He thought back to Phil’s videos on the internet; they showed a boy only interested in bringing joy into other people’s lives. He thought back on their very first interaction when Phil had calmed Dan down during a panic attack, caused by his very presence. A thousand little memories darted and danced through Dan’s brain, all reminding him that Phil was the best person that Dan had ever met. “No. I trust you.”

Phil let out a cry of frustration and disbelief. “I don’t get how you can have so much faith in me!” Dan let out a little surprised gasp as, suddenly, Dan was left with just a pile of his own clothes as Phil’s physical form ceased to exist. Dan could still feel the phantom touch in his cold fingers. He buried his head into his own clothing, wondering what smell Phil would have left behind in them if he was still living. 

Phil didn’t re-manifest himself again that day. Dan knew he wasn’t that far away. He didn’t really understand what kind of form Phil took when he didn’t have a body-- Phil had try to explain it before, using several broken metaphors. But Dan really couldn’t understand, having never personally experienced it. From what he understood, without his physical body, Phil was more of a presence in the apartment, which meant that he was still watching Dan. He was just choosing not to interact. 

Despite this, Dan didn’t stop talking to Phil all day. Mostly, he told the ghost boy how immature he was being. “You’re supposed to be my elder, Philip!” Dan called out to the kitchen as he stirred a pot of soup. “You can’t run from arguments.” Dan grumbled as he watched their abandoned episode of Rick and Morty. “My mum always said you’re not supposed to go to sleep angry.” Dan whispered as he crawled under his sheets and drifted into a fitful sleep. 

“You’re never going to drop this.” Phil said the next morning, sitting on the right side of Dan’s bed, purposefully not wearing any of Dan’s clothes. Dan opened his eyes, waking at Phil’s words. He said them seriously and evenly. Dan rubbed his eyes, and pushed himself up into a sitting position, his blanket slipping down his bare chest. 

“Um, no probably not.” Dan had enough sense to be a little sheepish. He had always been stubborn. “I just want to give this to you. Let me give this to you.”

Phil stared at his fingers, wishing he had some inanimate object to spin. “But why?”

Dan’s stomach dropped; he wasn’t anticipating the question, even though it was a very valid one to ask. Dan had only known Phil for a couple months. Not quite a half year. And yet, here he was, offering the ghost his body. And, if things went wrong, his life. Dan knew the reason why he was willing to do this for Phil. Anyone could figure it out if they just thought about it. “I think you know why.” Dan said tentatively, wishing that Phil was at least wearing a pair of gloves so he could grab the ghost’s hand. He considered reaching out anyway and just ignoring the bite of cold against his skin. Dan decided not to at the last minute, guessing that Phil had his reasons for talking to him without the protective layer of clothing. Phil was silent for a long minute, still refusing to look at Dan. 

“Ok. But why?” Although almost identical in phrasing, this was a completely different question. Dan closed his eyes at words left unsaid. Why did Dan love Phil? It was easy to answer, a thousand responses springing up in Dan’s mind all at once. But, was Dan going to be the one to break the silence and bring those words out into the open? There was a moment of sudden clarity and confidence, but the silence stretched on for too long and the moment was gone as quickly as it came. Phil pressed his hands into his eyes. “Ok, this is too heavy so early in the morning.” A watery, shaky smile greeted Dan’s eyes as Phil turned to look at him for the first time that morning. “Do you wanna watch some YouTube in bed?” 

Dan felt like a coward for agreeing to the plan. They spent most of the day in bed together, Dan eating snacks and both of them giggling over YouTube poop. They pressed against each other through Dan’s duvet and the words that Dan yearned to say burned just under the surface of his skin. He swore that Phil could feel them through the thin material of pajamas and blanket.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for this one. It's pretty angsty AND leaves on a cliffhanger. BUT, new update tomorrow, so it's not like I'm leaving you with a cliffhanger for a month? <3 Also! Lot's of love to sun-stiel on tumblr who gave me the idea of the animal shelter :)

Late afternoon came and Dan’s skin was sticky with the sweat of staying in bed all day. He extracted himself from the blankets, telling Phil he was going to take a shower. Phil nodded absently, shifting Dan’s laptop so it sat on his lap.

While Dan was gone, Phil opened an incognito window and used Google Street View to explore London, letting himself imagine that he had finally relented to Dan and was walking around London in Dan’s body. Could it be that much of a bad idea? Dan wanted to do this for him-- and Phil was pretty sure why Dan was willing, but that scared Phil even more than possession-- but why should Phil be the one to say no? They both wanted to experience this. Phil directed Google Street View to their apartment complex, staring at it through the computer screen. He didn’t hate the apartment; he had tried hard to think of it as a home, not a prison. But then Dan had come along and made him want so much more.

Phil used to spend his days sneakily watching whoever lived in the apartment at the time. Sometimes he would try to watch TV or look over their shoulders while they were on the internet. Sometimes he would just watch renters eat food, wondering what it would be like to taste again. He would even settle for the ability to eat cheese, and he hated cheese. Phil would very rarely appear in his physical form and it was usually when renter were asleep or away from the apartment. He hadn’t directly and purposefully interacted with anyone until Dan came along.

And Dan had given him a lot more than simple interaction. Dan showed him TV shows and movies and let him play video games. Dan bought and surprised him with gifts. Dan listened to Phil as he spoke about his memories: his mum, his first crush, his A levels discovering YouTube, going to uni, wondering where he was going in life. Phil hadn’t told Dan about his death, and maybe that wasn’t fair, but Dan didn’t push Phil. Dan figured out a way for them to touch and didn’t seem to mind that it made him feel so cold, because it made Phil feel warm. It made him feel an echo of life.

 

Phil ached with longing. He wanted to be with Dan in every way and sense. He wanted to be able to hold hands. He wanted to be able to warm Dan, instead of freeze him to death. He wanted to... kiss Dan. Phil remembered what it was like to kiss. He had quite enjoyed it, before he had died. He loved the press of lips against his own. The soft scrape of stubble against his chin. The soft, wet heat of the inside of another person’s mouth. Phil wanted to do other things with Dan, too. Other things that Phil missed just as much as kissing. He wanted them to be able to fall in bed, touching each other all over. He wanted to know what it was like to move inside Dan and hold him close.

But, he didn’t want to possess Dan. He wanted to be with Dan as a separate, living, breathing, loving entity. But Phil was dead. His body was a husk-- a mere hollow copy of what it once was. Sure, he cold mould it and shape it into something similar to reality. But, he couldn’t have Dan in the ways that he really wanted. A tear slipped down Phil’s cheek.

“Fuck,” he whispered brokenly.

“What’s wrong, Phil?” Dan said quietly, standing in the doorway of his bed. His hair was wet, curling against his forehead and Phil thought about running his fingers through it. More tears joined the first. Phil balled his hands up into two fists and squeezed, trying to remind his fingers that he couldn’t touch and feel anymore. He was dead, damn it.

Suddenly, words that Phil had been denying for months were spilling out of his mouth and he couldn’t stop them. “I love you, Dan. I love you, but I can’t love you properly.” Phil broke down, pushing the laptop off his body and doubling over into himself.

Dan joined Phil on the bed, pulling the sleeves of his jumper over his hands and gathering the ghost in a tight hug. “Fuck. Fuck, Phil.” Dan squeezed, even though Phil wouldn’t be able to feel the tightening pressure, just the warmth it produced. “I-I love you too. Of course I love you.” He hunkered over the balled-up ghost; it looked like he was shielding Phil from something. His clothes did little to protect him against the cold and Dan was immediately shivering. Phil cried harder at that. He was tempted to disappear into thin air again and save Dan from his icy skin and the feeling of death that was probably being pumped into Dan’s body. Dan shivered harder when his cheek pressed up into Phil’s bare neck. Dan felt like the late autumn wind had been biting at his cheeks for hours. It _hurt_. But he didn’t want to move. He loved Phil so much; the physical hurt was nothing compared to the recognition that Phil wasn’t as ok as he made himself out to be.

Phil could tell that Dan was shuddering violently. This was what he did to Dan. Where Dan made Phil feel warm and alive, Phil just sucked the life out of Dan. It was a one-sided relationship that, ultimately, hurt Dan. Unable to handle the thought of Dan physically hurting for his sake, Phil made his body disappear.

The next moment happened so quickly, but seemed like years for both of the boys.

As Dan slumped over onto the bed where Phil was previously sitting, Phil felt himself slide into heavenly warmth. His vision blacked out and he was swimming aimlessly in what felt like warmed honey. It caressed his skin, squeezing into his pores and wrinkles. It filled his nose and mouth and he could feel himself drowning. It wasn’t scary; it didn’t hurt. Familiar and unfamiliar images flashed in his mind, replacing the darkness. He saw everything as if he was experiencing it, but the images were so quick that he only just began comprehending them before another one was taking its place. A woman spooning baby food at him. A friend clinking a pint against the one he held. A beautiful girl kissing him. Standing at a mirror, seeing Dan in the reflection. Smells, sounds, tastes, and feelings attacked him while the images played in his brain. Peppermint, baby crying, axe body spray, fur rubbing against his body, orgasms, piano notes, italian food, tongue running up his neck. He couldn’t comprehend the cacophony and it hurt him and overwhelmed his senses. Right as Phil felt that he couldn’t take the chaos any longer and something had to break, it was all over and he was slammed back into reality.

Except, his chest thumped. The heartbeat inside it was so loud and strong that it hurt. He was warm and-- he ran his hands across the material of Dan’s duvet-- he could _feel_. It was soft and slippery. He could feel the fluff inside the blanket. He smelled vanilla and something spicey. The apartment was slightly chilly, since Dan hadn’t bothered to turn up the heat that day. Dan! Phil looked around the bedroom, wondering where Dan had gone. Realization made Phil close his eyes against the onslaught of sensation. He lifted up his hand and felt soft, slightly wet curly hair. He was in Dan’s body.

He had accidentally possessed Dan’s body.

Phil’s-- Dan’s?-- heartbeat picked up, if that was even possible. Phil’s eyes snapped open and darted over the room. His fingers prickled with numbness. Adrenaline and panic rushed through his blood. Phil’s thoughts raced, wondering what he was going to do. Where had Dan gone? How was Phil going to get out of Dan’s body? Would there be any Dan left when Phil was gone?

 _Phil_? A calm, questioning voice was in Phil’s mind. He recognized Dan’s voice.

“Dan! Oh god, thank god. I’m so sorry; this was an accident!” Phil trembled violently. Phil looked down at Dan’s fingers. They were shaking and he couldn’t stop them. They felt numb and he panicked, fearing that he was doing something irreversible to Dan’s body. “Dan? Dan, I’m scared. Something’s happening to you. I f-feel numb. You, you--”

 _Everything’s ok. It’s just a panic attack.  My body is just reacting to your inner panic. You have to calm your mind if my body is going to follow suit. I’m ok. You’re ok. Please breathe._ Phil followed Dan’s advice, replacing hyperventilating breaths with slow, albeit broken ones. 

“Where are you, Dan?”

 _Shhh, I’m ok. Breathe._ Despite Dan’s reassuring words, Phil’s mind continued to spiral and the body that he was in followed suit.

“What helps you when you have a panic attack D-Dan?” Phil’s words stumbled out of his mouth. He was still talking out loud; he didn’t have time to wonder how this worked logistically or if Dan could hear his thoughts.

 _Ground yourself. Squeeze your hands around your wrist. Drag your fingers over your neck. Hum to yourself. Breathe._ Feeling silly, but trusting Dan to know his own body, Phil followed Dan’s advice and continued to breathe slowly and deliberately. It took several minutes, but soon Dan’s body was cooperating. Phil quieted his frantic thoughts.

“Ok. Ok. I’m ok, I think. Well-- I guess it’s you we are talking about.” Phil chuckled without humor. Everything was wrong. He shouldn’t be in Dan’s body.  

 _For the sake of clarity, let’s just call it you. I’m all yours right now_. Dan giggled at the euphemism and Phil wished that he could push Dan over. Well, Phil could, but he figured it wouldn’t be very effective in chastising Dan.

“Note to self: don’t de-manifest when you’re holding me. Apparently that’s how possession works.” Phil stretched out his legs; they ached from being tucked underneath him for so long. Phil was momentarily lost in the feeling of discomfort that he hadn’t felt in seven years. He wiggled his toes. “You got your wish, I guess.” Phil winced, suddenly wondering how he could be so selfish. “Jesus, Dan, I haven’t even checked. Are you ok?”

 _I’m fine._ Phil could almost see him rolling his eyes. _I can’t feel anything. I can see what you see, though, so no doing naughty things to my body._

Phil was in disbelief that Dan was actually joking. “Aren’t you frightened?” Phil gasped, exasperated. “This could be permanent! You could die! I don’t know how to get out of your body.” Phil held out a stern finger, knowing Dan could see it. “Don’t you dare make another dirty joke off that one.”

Dan laughed in Phil’s mind, long and loud. _How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not worried. I trust you; I’m not going to die. And even if I did--_

“--Don’t finish that sentence.” Phil was serious all of a sudden. Something in Phil’s tone caused Dan to stop talking.

_Well, anyway. How does this work? Like, what do you feel?_

Phil tried to capture what he felt into words. But how could you describe to someone what it’s like to feel, smell, and taste again after seven years of numbness? Phil could only liken it to things that captured a little piece of his euphoria. Sudden warmth after a long day outside during the winter. Taking off your shoes and socks after walking for hours. Having your favorite food for the first time in awhile. Orgasming after edging yourself. Dan had stuttered a nonsensical response to that comparison and Phil had smirked.

Together, they discovered that Phil had no access to Dan’s memories or thoughts that Dan didn’t consciously express to Phil. Dan couldn’t hear Phil when he thought to himself, only when Phil spoke aloud. It was as if two conscious minds were existing in Dan’s head at once, but Phil had the control over the body.

Phil discovered that he could choose to speak in Dan’s voice or his own. Both weirded him out. It was odd to hear Dan’s voice come out instead of his own, but it felt wrong when his voice came out of Dan’s mouth. Phil settled on his own voice, still feeling uncomfortable despite having Dan’s full consent.

Phil hadn’t moved off of Dan’s bed, still wanting to give Dan’s body back to him rather than continue to explore this new experience. However, Dan was a pushy voice in his head. _Get up! Run around! Touch stuff. Go cook and eat and, Phil, you could leave the house! Let’s go to a restaurant and eat!_

“I don’t know, Dan. I feel guilty.” Phil eyed the city outside of Dan’s window warily.

_That’s why I trust you. You aren’t going to take advantage of this. But we are here, so you might as well enjoy it._

As always, stubborn Dan convinced Phil to leave the apartment. Phil stood at the entryway to the flat, one foot stuck soundly to the floor, the other hovering over the open doorway. “I’m scared,” Phil whispered, staring at the space directly outside the apartment. “I don’t know why, but I’m scared.”

Dan made a soothing sound in his head. _I understand. It’s been a long time._ _Take your time._

It was minutes later when Phil’s foot was moving again, seemingly of its own accord. He watched as his foot touched the carpet in the hallway. The smell of musty carpet and cat pee attacked his nostrils. Another foot followed behind him and Phil realized that he was outside. Seven years after moving into the London apartment that he had been so excited to find, he was finally out of it. He collapsed onto the ground, his knees giving out underneath his weight.

Phil felt the rough, slightly sticky carpet with his hands. A tear threatened to leak out the corner of his eye. He brushed it away. “Shit, Dan. I’m out.”

 _You’re out_ , Dan said, his voice full of wonder. He was enjoying Phil’s freedom as much, if not more than Phil. _Keep going._ Phil stood up shakily. He couldn’t tell if he was tired or anxious.

Phil felt like a newborn calf, moving down the hall and toward the elevator on clumsy feet. It was almost like he had to learn to walk again. His muscles ached. Did it always take this much energy? Once in the lobby, he couldn’t help but collapse into one of the shitty lounge chairs on the carpet, next to the landlord’s office. Keeping his voice down low, Phil whispered. “I’m _tired_ Dan. Already. I don’t know if I can walk anymore.”

Dan hummed, curious. _Interesting. I’m not_ **_that_ ** _out of shape._ Phil could hear the smile in his voice.

“I think this has to do with my own shortcomings as a weak little ghost.” Phil replied, watching a middle aged woman walk through the lobby doors and cast him a vaguely confused look.

 _I won’t make a performance joke_ . Phil spluttered, causing the woman to look at him again, warily. Phil dug Dan’s phone out of his pocket and put it up to his ear. _What are you doing_?

“Faking a phone call so that woman stops looking at me like I’m going to murder her whole family.” Phil murmured quietly. “I don’t think I can go outside right now, though. To be completely honest, I may collapse on the pavement.”

 _I guess it makes sense. You’ve had to build up strength with each new trick you learn._ Phil thought back to seven years ago when he first began practicing with electricity. At first, all he could do was dim the tiny bulb on his pikachu bathroom nightlight. That had been before the apartment had been completely stripped of his belongings, of course.

“Sorry, Dan, I wish this had been more exciting. I feel like I’ve let you down.” Phil dragged himself up, walking toward the elevator he had just come down on. He was thankful no one was around to see him re-enter it so soon.

 _Don’t be sorry. This was amazing. We’ll keep doing it; you’ll get stronger.”_ Phil didn’t have the energy to argue with Dan. He piloted the body out of the elevator, back into the apartment, realizing that he had been too distracted to lock the door. Phil had just enough energy to collapse face-first back onto Dan’s bed and then he was suddenly being ripped from the realm of the living once again.

It didn’t hurt, perse. But the overwhelming sense of loss that returned suddenly was enough to make him hurt. If felt like heartbreak, more than anything else. To make matters worse, Phil didn’t even have enough energy to manifest himself in a physical form. He watched Dan pick himself off the surface of the bed and look around the bedroom. “Phil?” He called out.

Phil focused all his energy to whisper, “Sorry, not enough energy.” Since Phil was in his non-corporeal form, Dan heard the statement echo all around him. The hairs on his neck stood up, despite him knowing that it was just Phil. Dan got the message, understanding that Phil needed to recharge-- whatever that entailed. It was another ghost detail that he didn’t fully get.

It didn’t really matter. What mattered was that Phil had possessed Dan and they were going to continue to explore this new facet to Phil’s afterlife. Dan smiled, knowing that he had been able to give Phil a heartbeat again.  

***

Dan expected things to change after their mutual proclamation of love and the accidental possession, but it really didn’t. Dan and Phil continued to binge-play entire video games and watch way too much TV and poke fun at each other. They continued cuddling on the couch. Dan continued to make videos, his viewers noticing Dan’s new-found happiness and the unique, lighthearted editing style that snuck its way into his videos. His audience came up with hundreds of theories about the change they saw in Dan. Falling in love was at the top of the list and Dan had to smile at his viewers’ intuition.

The only changes to their lives were small. Phil took to laying next to Dan while he slept. They whispered soft, “I love you’s” to each other, every moment that it came to mind. They slipped little innuendos into their conversations, even though they both knew that kind of intimacy was impossible for them. They fantasized about what life would have been like if they could have made videos together. Phil talked about books and live stage shows and fantastical things that Dan couldn’t even comprehend being part of his life. Talking like that should have made them sad, but they had found each other in the end, so why should they dwell on the negative?

And, like with all of the other ghost powers, Dan and Phil practiced possession. It took a month, but by the end of September, Phil was able to walk around London with the strength of a living person. Both of them were delighted; Phil was slowly losing his reservations about possession as it proved to be completely harmless. Phil was finally able to experience his favorite time of year again. The autumn breeze blowing against his skin and the sound of crisp leaves crunching under his feet brought tears to his eyes the first time he had successfully entered the outside world.

Phil had realized, with disgust, that he had the ability to do some pretty nefarious things to Dan while possessing him. With a sick intuition, Phil knew that he could silence Dan’s thoughts or even drive him out of his own body. But, Phil loved Dan. He wanted Dan safe and happy. He could never do what he knew, in the back of his mind, he was capable of.

Dan, meanwhile, got more or less used to the numbness that would overwhelm him when Phil was possessing his body. Just like he had grown used to being cold most of the time because of their incessant touching. Dan didn’t complain and Phil never picked up on the discomfort Dan experienced. Dan was glad of this, only wanting Phil to focus on the feeling of bathing in the autumn air or holding a living being close to him again.

One of Phil’s favorite things to do was visit shelters and pet the dogs and cats housed in them. He loved being able to feel their soft fur and cuddle their warm bodies to his own (borrowed) warm body. The first of October came around and Phil asked Dan if he could “take his body for a spin to see kittens and Halloween decorations.” Of course, Dan had agreed, laying his body flat on his bed and letting Phil’s non-corporeal form sink into his skin. Dan was barraged by lonely images and heart-wrenchingly painful emotions, as always. They were snapshots of Phil’s afterlife; Dan had realized this after the first possession. They were always pretty similar: looking out of their apartment balcony, longing, watching renter after renter come and go, envy, looking down on Phil lying in bed, numbness, staring at the paint fade on their living room wall, boredom, watching an old YouTuber, nostalgia, seeing Dan staring back at him, love. When the images finally disappeared and vision was restored to Dan, he always had to choke back tears at the onslaught of emotional pain. Phil never caught on to Dan’s pain; Dan had to be thankful for his apparent acting skills.

“You ready, Dan?” Dan heard Phil say. It was an odd feeling, being able to see out of your eyes, but not being able to move or audibly speak. Dan likened it to sleep paralysis, something that he had been able to experience as a child. _Ready, Phil_. It was also odd to be aware of your body moving and a voice coming out of your mouth, but not of your own accord. Dan would never fully get used to it. But, he didn’t mind it.

As Phil made his way to the animal shelter, Dan thought about the experience of possession. He didn’t mind having to sit in a corner of his mind, completely numb to the outside world. He didn’t mind having to explicitly send thoughts to Phil in order to communicate. He didn’t even mind that, the longer Phil was in his body, the hazier Dan’s vision became and the less concrete he felt. Honestly, it was actually relaxing to be able to lose oneself so completely. Plus, anything was worth the happiness Dan could hear in Phil’s voice as he traveled, smelled, felt, tasted again.

Dan watched as his own hand reached out to stroke a pure white kitten. Phil was softly cooing at the little creature, whispering things like “your fur is so soft, pretty kitty” and “you are really the softest kitty in the world, aren’t you? Wow, congratulations on the honor.” Dan giggled so that Phil could hear his contentment. He could only imagine what it was like to feel fur after so many years of numbness.

_When you are done presenting the kitty with her award, let’s go to the shop and buy some Halloween decorations. You love Halloween and our flat could use some festivity._

“Dan, it’s October first. Isn’t it too early?” Phil whispered, keeping an eye on the volunteer sweeping up cat fur across the room. She didn’t even notice Phil, thinking he was murmuring to the cat.

_Pfft, it’s never to early to decorate for Halloween._

Phil had to agree and admit that he was buzzing with excitement at the prospect of decorating for his favorite holiday. There were just so many wonderful experiences that he had forgotten about that were suddenly coming back to him. He was so thankful to Dan for the opportunity to taste life again.

_Ok, that’s our evening plans sorted. We are going to go get some decorations, spookify the house, and watch a creepy movie. Have you ever seen The Virgin Suicides?_

“Nope,” Phil replied, gently removing himself from the cat and exiting the playroom, making sure to shut the door tightly on the way out. He brushed long strands of white fur of his (Dan’s) black skinny jeans. “Sounds creepy though.” Phil exited the animal shelter, waving at the volunteer on duty. Phil listened to Dan describe the plot of the Virgin Suicides and the apparent technical genius of Sophia Coppola. Phil enjoyed listening to Dan talk about movies, since Phil had finished a film degree right before he died. Together, but in one body, Dan and Phil made their way to the tube for their halloween decoration search.

Phil bought way too many decorations, but Dan didn’t even try to stop him. Dan found himself telling Phil _buy it_ , every time his hand touched a new, Halloween themed piece of plastic or styrofoam. What was the point of the YouTube money if Dan didn’t spend it on some frivolous Halloween decorations?

Once back at the flat, with an embarrassing amount of shopping bags, Phil exited Dan’s body. After being ripped from Dan that first time, Phil had tried perfecting the art of slowly extracting himself from Dan’s body, like sliding out of bed on a cold, grey morning. Despite Phil’s attempts, they both had to take a moment to become reacclimated to their original forms. This time around, Phil recovered before Dan. He made the living boy a cup of tea. Dan accepted it gratefully as Phil looked on in concern. “Do you feel ok, Dan?”

Dan chugged the too-hot tea, relishing the burning he felt in his throat. There was something disconcerting about not being able to feel for hours on end. Dan had actually been a bit frightened toward the end of their outing, feeling himself getting more and more distant from his physical self. Dan kept his mouth shut, though, not wanting to spook Phil. If Phil sensed even a hint of trouble, he would never possess Dan again. Phil would never get to experience life again. “I’m ok, just a little dizzy. You can’t blame me, can you?” Dan snapped, immediately regretting his tone.

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. I’m sure it’s dizzying.” Phil smiled understandingly.

Dan shook off his discomfort and forced himself off the sofa. “Sorry. That wasn’t fair... Let’s just get decorating, ok? We’ll make this flat look like Jack Skellington himself upchucked straight on it!” Dan’s stomach swooped, but he ignored it and the two boys commenced their festive decorating. They both donned fuzzy gloves and themed jumpers so that they could give each other soft touches while stringing lights and hanging up ghouls, skeletons, and vampires. Dan put on Halloween music (or just a ten hour loop of “Spooky Scary Skeletons: Dance Remix”). They put together an impressive, fake Halloween willow tree (“You have to assemble it? Phiiil, that’s work!”) and placed candy corn wreaths around the flat (“Hey, Phil, I found a place to put the wreath!” “Oh my god, that is horrific, we can’t have it in the bathroom, around Niall’s face!”) They flicked through the different fairy light options on the Halloween tree (“Woah, rave tree! Let’s have a Halloween rave!” “Yeah, Dan, “Spooky Scary Skeleton” makes great rave music!” “I’m glad you see it my way, Philly.”)

Dan collapsed on the sofa again, absolutely exhausted. He admired their handywork. “I’m glad we did this. I’m feeling the festivity! Shove a pumpkin straight up my ass.”

Phil nodded, holding his hands out and spinning around, ignoring Dan’s rude comment.  “I feel so festive, too! I can’t believe I’m actually getting a chance to experience Halloween again!” Phil sat down next to Dan on the couch and pulled the living boy into his arms. Phil wanted to tuck his head into Dan’s neck, but didn’t, knowing that his cold skin would hurt Dan.

“Isn’t it Halloween every day for you, mate?”

“Hah, hah. Very funny.” They sat in silence for a moment, admiring their handiwork. Dan was about to suggest putting on The Virgin Suicides when Phil spoke again. “It was very close to Halloween when I…” Dan’s eye widened when he realize what Phil was talking about. “...died.” Phil whispered, as if saying it louder would make it happen again somehow. “It was late September. I had just moved here.” Dan tentatively wrapped his arms around Phil and carded one hand through his hair.

Dan didn’t know what to say. Phil didn’t offer any more information and Dan didn’t pry, even though he was aching to know how Phil had died. Instead, Dan grabbed Phil’s hand and brought it up to his lips, softly pressing a kiss to the glove. “I love you,” Dan whispered so softly, as if loud words would cause Phil to shatter. “Let’s put on that movie.”

Phil nodded and they separated temporarily. The movie was really good, Dan hadn’t been lying. It was one of his favorites and perfect for around Halloween. It was disturbing, without being gory. It was lonely in an “indie film” kind of way.

Dan and Phil were cuddled up close, so Dan felt the exact moment during the movie when Phil froze in his arms.

One of the suicides. The young girl had stuffed the exhaust pipe of her parents’ old station wagon and died breathing in its fumes. It was always one of the more disturbing images of the movie, but Phil had certainly watched worse with Dan. Despite this, Phil gasped at the image of the girl’s hand slumping of the car door, a cigarette falling out from between her fingers. He sprung up to his feet. Dan paused the movie.

“Phil…? Are you ok?”

Phil whirled around to face Dan and fear prickled in Dan’s stomach. “You--” Phil said accusingly, sticking his finger out at Dan. Phil’s finger shook violently and his chin wobbled with emotion.

“What? You’re scaring me.” Dan replied, softly, meeting Phil’s dark eyes. Phil studied him and collapsed onto the floor, the fight draining out of him as quickly as it had come.

“I thought you had--” Phil pressed his hands into his eyes and let out a desperate cry. Dan stared at him, completely confused.

“Wha--? Phil, talk to me. I don’t understand.”

Suddenly Phil was speaking. His eyes shone, but there were no tears. He rocked back and forth. “I had just moved in here. I was so excited. A London apartment. I expected to move to Manchester, but I found an interesting video production job in London to do while also doing YouTube. The pay was pretty good, so I could afford the city. I thought my life was finally shaping up.”

Dan was shocked at the sudden onslaught of words coming out of Phil’s mouth. They were completely out of place, spilling from his lips like they had been building up for years. Phil sounded unhinged, like the words were some unnatural thing crawling out of his throat. Dan wanted nothing more than for Phil to stop. “Phil, I’m so confused. What are you talking about?”

  
Phil ignored him. “My death wasn’t exciting.” Dan gasped, realizing what Phil was about to tell him. Phil’s voice was monotone and Dan hated it. This wasn’t the Phil he had come to know. The one who still said ‘rawr’ unironically and did animal impressions around the flat. The one who groaned and bit game controllers when a Sonic the Hedgehog level was too hard. The Phil whose favorite food was popcorn and loved holding Dan’s hand. He sounded, no pun intended, dead on the inside. “It wasn’t tragic or heroic. It was just a stupid accident and I should never have been so angry when you asked about it. I should have never waited this long to tell you. I love you and you should know.” Phil finally looked at Dan. Even if Dan lived for a hundred years, he knew that he would never see an expression more full of grief than the one that Phil wore on his face. Dan could only stare with wide eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this one... a happy ending is on its way, I swear.

“I died for a stupid reason. I lost out on all my chances in life because my landlord wrote off on an inspection that hadn’t been completed.” Dan closed his eyes, suddenly questioning whether or not he wanted to hear Phil’s cause of death. He had waited so long to find out, the question itching underneath his skin, ever since that night that Phil had exploded at Dan for asking. But now, Dan didn’t want Phil to say another word.

“Phil, please, you don’t have to-- I don’t want you to-- Phil…” Dan didn’t even know what he was trying to say, but Phil didn’t even glance at Dan.

“It started out with regular flu symptoms. I didn’t think anything of it for a couple days. But it didn’t get better. In fact, my flu started to get downright scary.” Phil looked beyond the lounge, eyes far away like he was imagining himself seven years ago. “I was often confused.” Phil let out a hollow laugh that grated again Dan’s skin. It sounded nothing like Phil’s laughs. It sounded nothing like his loud, long giggles when Dan did something funny. It sounded nothing like his low, intimate chuckles when they cuddled in bed. It sounded nothing like his hissing snickers when he was trying to stop himself from laughing. Phil had a hundred different laughs, but this was one that Dan never wanted to hear again.

“One day I found myself out on the balcony, sitting on the railing and looking down at the city.” Dan sucked in a harsh breath and held it, praying that Phil wasn’t about to say what Dan feared the most. “I had no idea how I got there. I’d lay in bed and my muscles would seize up and my vision would go back.” Dan breathed out shakily. “I called my mom and she urged me to see the doctor. I figured it could wait a day and so I scheduled the appointment and I--”

The monotone voice that Phil spoke with cracked. Dan watched as the mask on Phil’s face shattered and his face contorted with raw emotion. Phil choked back a sob and Dan pushed his palms into his closed eyes, feeling the back of his throat tighten and a few tears wet his palms. “I-I went to sleep.”

The flat was as silent as a tomb. Dan could hear the soft hum of the TV, indicating that it was still on. He could hear their neighbors having a distant, muted conversation. Dan wondered briefly what they were talking about. What to have for dinner, maybe. Definitely not how the other had died. Dan spoke the words that he intuitively knew were true, despite wanting to clap his hand over his mouth, over Phil’s mouth, and never return to this conversation again. “You never woke up?”

“I never woke up.” Phil agreed. There was a beat. “Carbon monoxide poisoning. The furnace was broken.” Dan was filled with anger, wanting to find the person responsible for Phil’s death. Dan wanted to find him and kill him.

Phil’s reaction to the movie suddenly made sense. Dan had brought him back to that place. He brought him back his death. Dan cried now, freely. He got down on his knees next to Phil and gathered him in his arms. “No one found my body for a week.”

“Oh, god, Phil.” Dan rocked the ghost, not caring that the Phil’s cheek was pressed painfully to the bare crook of his neck. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter anymore. Phil had been so alone in his death; he didn’t have to be alone ever again. Dan would make sure of it.

 “Ph-Phil, I’m so s-sorry. So sorry.” Sorry for the movie, sorry for the way Phil had died, sorry for how unfairly life had treated them both. Sorry that they hadn’t found each other, their soulmates, until death had claimed one of them. They both cried.

Dan wished that Phil had never told Dan how he died, because now Dan was plagued by the image of Phil, alone, watching his own body deteriorate for a week, waiting on someone to find him and relieve just a bit of his suffering.

***

It took three days of crying in each other’s arms for Dan and Phil to be able to pick themselves up again. Phil was distraught by the memories of his death, but Dan was downright inconsolable. He struggled to balance the conflicting images of Phil that wrestled inside his mind. Images of amazingphil smiling hugely into a camera, images of his Phil clutching his hand as they decorated for Halloween and danced to silly music, images of a decaying Phil lying motionless under a familiar green and blue duvet. Dan now understood the images of Phil in bed that Dan often saw when Phil was initially possessing Dan’s body. Dan had been unknowingly watching Phil decaying in his own memories. These images haunted Dan. They kept him awake at night.

Dan tried to shake it off, like Phil had successfully done. It worked from the perspective of someone looking outside in, but Dan knew that those images were burned in his retinas forever.

“Let’s go out today, Phil.” Dan said, standing in the shower, scrubbing himself under the scalding water. It was too hot, making his skin pink and sensitive. He rubbed himself too hard, almost as if he was trying to rid himself of his own skin.

Phil sat on the toilet directly outside of the shower. He was reading a Stephen King novel on his iPad, but had wanted to keep Dan company. “Sure, ok. Where do you want to go?”

Dan hummed, rinsing soap out of his hair. “I want us to have a day of it. Go to breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Go to the movies, maybe. Visit a bookstore. I don’t know.” Dan spat out the watery bubbles that dripped into his mouth while talking. He just wanted to be distracted and he didn’t want to go out without Phil. He didn’t want to do anything without Phil, preferring to continue to put off his friends and make excuses to his mum.

Phil read another page before answering distractedly. “Sounds fun. It’s perfect that you woke up so uncharacteristically early.” Dan opened the shower curtain and flicked soap at Phil who screeched and held the iPad far away from his body, squawking about soap killing Apple products. Dan almost felt normal for the first time in a week.

Dan finished his shower, shutting the water off and climbing into the chilly air of the bathroom. Phil looked up from his iPad, eyeing Dan up and down. “Nice bod, mate.” Dan would have blushed deeper if he hadn’t taken such a hot shower, wrapping a towel around his waist instead.

“Shut up, creep. You probably use your ghostly powers for pervy stuff, _mate_.” Dan grabbed another towel and rubbed his hair dry.

Phil cupped his chin in the palms of his hands and looked at Dan with his head cocked. “Believe it or not, I tried very hard not to use my ghostly powers for pervy stuff. It seemed nonconsensual and yucky.” He tapped a finger on his cheek and watched a drop of water slide down Dan’s chest and into the edge of his towel. “But, _you_ can consent.”

Dan whipped the towel in his hands at Phil, admonishing the ghost boy. Phil just laughed and followed Dan into his bedroom where Dan dressed for their day out. Dan tried to run his fingers through his hair to tame the bush that seemed to grow out of his scalp, but quickly gave up and just laid on the bed. He looked up at Phil and sensually whispered, “enter me.”

A surprised laugh exploded out of Phil’s lips and it was his turn to admonish the living boy with a “Daniel!” Dan giggled back. Phil gingerly placed himself on top of Dan and quickly let go of his physical manifestation. He sunk into Dan’s body and allowed himself to enjoy the honeyed life that washed over his consciousness. Phil watched the images of Dan’s life flash through his head like he was watching a pleasing TV show. Everything was tinged golden.

Meanwhile, the images that Dan was subjected to were a lot more meaningful, ever since having the conversation with Phil about his death. He understood what he was looking at when he watched Phil lie motionless on his bed. Usually Dan was able to protect himself with mental armor; he found that, this time around, he couldn’t keep himself from feeling every one of Phil’s past emotions. Boredom, emptiness, loss, nostalgia, anger, bitterness, deep sadness. They came in such close succession and never-ending waves, that they all melded into one black cloud of gloom.

When Dan’s vision cleared at the familiar ceiling of his flat stared back at him, the black cloud was still lodged in his heart and he couldn’t even get the motivation to speak or register what Phil was using his eyes to look at.

“Dan? Helloooo, Dan?” Phil’s curious, slightly worried voice finally reached Dan’s ears.

_Hmm? Sorry, what?_

“Did you hear what I said?”

_Uh, no. Sorry._

  
“Are you ok? You sound a little shaken up.” Phil looked in the mirror in Dan’s bedroom and Dan’s concerned brown eyes stared back at him. It was a bit unnerving.

 _Yeah, I’m ok. Distracted, that’s all. What’s for breakfast?_ Dan tried to sound normal, but was nervous that he just sounded fake. If Phil noticed Dan’s strangeness, he didn’t comment on it.

Phil raised his eyebrow, “uh, pancakes, duh. Do you even know me, Daniel?”

Dan huffed out a laugh. _You and your pancakes. You’re an addict!_

“Hey, I could be going to do some cocaine. I _do_ have full control over your body, right now.”

_Yeah, but all these pancakes are going to make me pudgy._

Phil poked at his tummy, his finger sinking into Dan’s soft belly. “Good! You would look so cute. More pancakes, it is!”

Dan laughed past the dark feelings that continued to attack him, hoping it didn’t sound as hollow as it felt. Phil left the bedroom, grabbing a warm jacket. As he pulled it on, its downy material caressed his arms and Phil closed his eyes and hummed at the sensation. Phil was constantly amazed by how everything felt. He had taken it for granted when he was alive, so he noticed and categorized every single sensation when he borrowed Dan’s body. Phil could appreciate all feelings, but he especially loved soft things: chairs, cotton shirts, kittens, autumn breezes, Dan’s skin, Dan’s hair. Dan was his favorite soft thing.

Phil also picked up Dan’s keys, wallet, and the little bluetooth earphone that they had bought. Phil wore it in his ear when he was possessing Dan, so that they could have conversations. That way, Phil didn’t look too crazy, talking to himself on the street. Or at least _as_ crazy as he could look.

Phil had pretty much been on a mission to find the best pancakes in London, ever since gaining the ability to possess Dan. He had discovered an American-style diner that served the fluffiest pancakes he’d ever had. He hailed a cab and directed the cabbie to the diner, fitting his bluetooth earphone into his ear so that he could talk to Dan.

“Hi, I’m on my way to the diner.”

 _I can see that, thanks for the update_. Phil could hear the smile in his voice and Phil laughed.

“Don’t be cheeky.” There was a pause. “I wish we could eat together. I wish I could take you on a proper date.”

_Oh yeah? Where would we go?_

Phil rubbed his hands along the cab’s interior, feeling the slippery plastic and trying to memorize the feeling. He breathed in the car’s musty smell and decided he didn’t have to memorize that one, although he could still appreciate it. He would appreciate the smell of vomit, for chrissakes. Anyone would, if they suddenly could smell after seven senseless years. “I don’t know London very well, since I only lived here a couple weeks, before… you know.”

 _Yeah_. Dan’s voice sounded quiet, sad, and distant. Phil hated it and almost wished he had never told Dan how he’d died.

“But!” Phil said brightly, trying to take Dan’s mind off of it, “I know Manchester pretty well. I think I would take you to the Wheel of Manchester and we would kiss at the very top of it and I would cuddle you close because it’s cold up there.” Dan didn’t have the heart to tell Phil that the Wheel had been closed for a couple years now.

“Then, we’d go to the Sky Bar. It’s really high up and you can see the whole city stretched out below you. I would pay for your meal and we would have fancy drinks while watching the sunset. There would probably be more kissing.” Phil took a moment to picture it. Dan’s silhouette against the blazing backdrop. Phil holding both Dan’s hands in the middle of the table, rubbing his thumb over Dan’s knuckles. The pinks, purples, and oranges bathing Dan’s soft face in color. Phil would lean over the table and softly touch his lips to Dan’s. They would be pillowy and warm and so would Phil’s. There would be no stab of cold. Both of them would feel alive and warm and happy.

Dan had asked Phil to kiss him multiple times and, every time, he had refused. He wasn’t going to hurt Dan like that and there was no way he was going to cover either of their faces to take part in an unnatural kiss that would just leave them both unsatisfied.

_It sounds perfect, Phil. I would be wooed._

Phil looked out the window wistfully and watched the chaos of London. He imagined that Dan was next to him in the car, instead of inside his head. “Yeah, I’m pretty charming.” The cabbie snorted, hiding it with a cough, and Phil remembered himself. “Well, um, I’m going to go now. I’m almost to the diner.”

_Almost to those thicc pancakes._

Phil whispered, “lemme see that pancussy” and Dan was laughing loudly in his head. Phil just hoped that the cabbie didn’t hear him.

At the diner, at Dan’s insistence, Phil ordered their tallest stack of chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream on top. The waiter brought him a cup of coffee while he waited and Phil took a sip, reveling in the deep taste that blanketed his tongue. Bitter, sweet, rich. “Coffee, Dan.”

 _Coffee, Phil?_ Dan asked. Phil could hear the fondness in his voice.

“Coffee.” Phil set the cup down and inhaled. There were so many wonderful smells swirling around him. The warm, cozy smell of greasy food. Coffees and other hot drinks. The smell of people: shoes, soap, and sweat. When Phil’s pancakes came, he tucked into them. He couldn’t help but shovel in mouthfuls of fluffy cake, taking stock of every note that swirled and danced over his tastebuds. Phil mumbled to Dan, describing the tastes, despite the fact that Dan definitely knew what pancakes tasted like. Phil always found himself likening tastes to memories he had from his life. These pancakes tasted like the time that Phil and his first girlfriend had kissed. Sickly sweet, soft, fluffy. Dan, as always, listened and laughed fondly at Phil.

“Excuse me?” Phil was suddenly aware of a presence at his elbow. He turned and saw a teenaged girl with dark skin and equally dark eyes.

“Oh! Hello!” Phil smiled warmly. He had no idea why this girl was talking to him, but he appreciated the ability to talk to people again. Since he had mostly talked to Dan, cashiers, cabbies, and servers, he was always excited to strike up conversation with a stranger.

 _It’s a fan, probably,_ Dan informed him.

“Ohhh,” Phil replied and then shut his mouth tight, realizing that the sudden outburst didn’t make a whole lot of sense to the young girl standing in front of him.

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice. Anxiously, she fluffed her hair. “Um, are you Daniel Howell? From YouTube?”

Phil hopped up from his seat and extended his hand toward the girl. “Yep! That’s me.” They shook hands and Phil’s eyebrows furrowed. She probably wanted a hug, not a weird handshake. It was too late to change, now. “It’s good to meet you!”

She smiled nervously, “it’s really good to meet you too. I’ve loved your recent videos. Um, can I have a selfie?” Phil agreed and took the picture with the fan, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and smiling brightly. He hoped that he was looking the part of Dan. The man in question had become quiet in his head, which Phil appreciated. If Dan had coached him, he probably would have just gotten more nervous. The girl swiped at her phone and smiled at the screen. “It’s a nice photo. Thank you! I’ll, uh, leave you to your breakfast.”

Phil smiled again, hoping he didn’t look manic. “You’re welcome. It was good to meet you!” Phil sat, letting out a relieved sigh. He muttered softly to Dan, “that was kinda weird.”

 _Nah, you played the part of socially awkward Dan pretty well. At least you spoke with my voice and not yours._ Phil nodded and finished his breakfast and paid the bill. He purposely spoke to people around London with Dan’s voice, in case someone recognized him. It would be hard to explain why Dan suddenly had a deeper, more Northern voice.

The more Phil thought about the occurrence with the fan, the more uncomfortable he felt. They were kind of lying to her, weren’t they? She wasn’t really meeting Daniel Howell, just his body. It was kind of creepy, actually. She had unknowingly had a conversation with a ghost. And the photo. Phil didn’t want even want to think about what the photo looked like. Probably like someone was wearing a Dan mask. Later, when Phil was walking the short distance to a nearby bookstore, he voiced his concerns to Dan.

“Isn’t it kind of creepy?” The person walking past him looked at Phil alarmed. Phil tapped against the bluetooth earphone, trying to indicate a phone call to the person walking down the sidewalk.

_I don’t think so. I mean, I was still in here. You said everything I would have said. She doesn’t need to know that it wasn’t exactly me she was talking to. You worried too much about this stuff. You and your morals._

Phil shrugged, then realized that Dan couldn’t see the movement. “I guess. It just made me feel kinda dirty.”

_It would only be dirty if you, like, masturbated while you were in my body._

Phil choked. “That’s, that’s got nothing to do with our current conversation. What the hell!”

***

The day progressed and Phil eventually forgot about his interaction with Dan’s fan. Instead, he focused on his first full day exploring London. They went to Starbucks after the bookstore ( _It’s a bit corporate, isn’t it?_ “I need to try a seasonal drink! Pumpkin spiced latte, here I come!”). Phil sat by the window and people-watched, while sipping a latte that reminded him of carving pumpkins with his family. They checked out a couple of comic book stores with hilariously nerdy names ( _Orc’s Nest, that’s incredible._ ) and made fun of the silly mangas and obscure graphic novel genres (“Dan, Dan, Dan this is the ‘paranormal romance’ genre. It’s literally us.” _Oh my god, someone understands._ ).

Dan directed Phil into overpriced clothing shops and made Phil try on clothes, which Phil complained about, but actually enjoyed. It was fun to feel the fabrics and put on actual clothes. It wasn’t like changing his appearance or wearing Dan’s clothes when he was a ghost. Those clothes didn’t feel like anything. They were simply a means to an end. In Dan’s body, Phil noticed the differences between cotton, silk, denim, and polyester on his skin. He noticed the weight of the clothing and how it brushed against his skin when he walked around. Plus, it was an excuse to touch Dan’s body and unabashedly appraise how the clothes hung on him. Phil tried on sweaters, button-ups, ripped jeans, shorts, suits, sweatpants, a lot of leather items. Dan and Phil joked back and forth as they always did, making inappropriate comments and giving each other compliments. It was the most fun either of them had clothes shopping.  

However, Dan couldn’t quite shake the uneasiness that followed him throughout the whole day. He still hadn’t been able to get rid of the emotions that bombarded him when Phil had possessed him that morning. While they were shopping, Dan felt really weak, despite the fact that he didn’t have a physical body. It was harder to talk to Phil; he had to work hard to send his thoughts over to Phil’s conscious mind. It was like there was a barrier to push through. Dan also swore that the edges of his vision were blurry. He kept telling himself that he was imagining things, though. He had sort of dealt with these symptoms in the past; they were probably worse because Phil had been possessing him for so long. Dan just ignored them and enjoyed the day with Phil.

As a joke, Phil bought Dan a pastel pink jumper that made his face look adorably soft. ( _Phil, if you haven’t noticed, I kind of don’t wear pink_ . “What? I hadn’t noticed! This is embarrassing.” _Oh, shut up. I’m never wearing it.)_

Phil was having the time of his life. He ducked into every shop and cafe, often just to look. He smiled and struck up conversation with every friendly person along the way. He pet all the dogs that walked by him and stopped to stare at tall buildings, weird sculptures, and different cloud formations in the sky. Dan watched, content to be quiet and enjoy Phil’s childlike wonder.

Dan didn’t start feeling really weird until halfway through the movie that he convinced Phil to go see. It wasn’t that hard to convince Phil, really. The only thing that had made him hesitate was the fact that the Blade Runner sequel was almost three hours long (“I dunno, Dan, a movie like that requires some mental preparation.” _Come on, I’ll bet you miss the cinema_.)

But, at the halfway point of the movie, it was Dan who was wishing that the film wasn’t so damn long. Dan watched in mild panic as his vision blurred and darkened, like someone was covering his eyes in a black, translucent film. _Do you see that_? Dan asked, distressed and hoping that it was just a movie effect.

“Hmm? See what?” Phil whispered, distracted. A fellow moviegoer shushed Phil immediately. “Sorry,” Phil apologized sheepishly to the disgruntled woman sitting next to them. “I can’t really talk right now, Dan.”

Dan’s vision cleared and the screen was bright again. If Dan could blink, he would do it several times to clear his head. _Ok, ignore me. It was nothing._

But, it wasn’t “nothing.” And it came back. And it seemed to get worse throughout the movie. With it, came an aching that was much like a headache… but that was impossible, since Dan didn’t have a head at the moment. And then, terrifyingly enough, the black film over his vision stopped going away. Instead, it began to get more opaque. It was almost as if Dan was going unconscious in slow motion. Each time Dan went to alert Phil, Dan brushed it off and decided not to alarm the ghost. After the movie, Dan would just ask Phil to head home so that he could have his body back. Dan wasn’t about to ruin what Phil was constantly describing as “the best day of his life.”

But, Dan didn’t get the chance to make his request. Phil left the movie and talked to Dan animatedly about the plot, gesticulating his hands. And Dan couldn’t reply. He couldn’t force a single word through the invisible barrier that seemed to get thicker and thicker. Before Dan knew it, he was looking out and seeing nothing but vague shapes in a black mire.

“Wow, I hadn’t realized how much I missed going to the cinema. It’s such an experience-- and the cinema has gotten so much better since 2010. How is that even possible? The sound is so immersive and the _quality!_ God, the quality.”

 _Phil. Phil something’s wrong_ . Dan tried to communicate, but found himself wholly unable to make Phil hear. The ghost continued to talk, energized about the movie. _Phil? Phil! PHIL!_ Dan’s vision went completely black and then his hearing started to go. It was like he was plunged underneath water. Phil’s voice was wobbly and muffled. Dan could vaguely make out his own name in Phil’s mouth. Dan was fully panicking now. Without vision or hearing, what would tether him to reality?

And just like that, Dan’s world was empty. He could see nothing, feel nothing, hear nothing. And then, he was having a hard time forming thoughts. Eventually, all that was left was an emotion, or rather several thousand emotions. All belonging to Phil and filling Dan with the rawest feeling of dread that he distantly hoped he would never feel again.

***

Dan was gone. Phil looked wildly around the park that he had stumbled in, as if he would find Dan hiding among the bushes. One minute, Phil had been pleasantly rambling about Blade Runner. Dan hadn’t been responding to Phil’s observations… but Phil had just thought that Dan was more contented to just listen to Phil rant.

But then, Phil had grown anxious when Dan didn’t answer Phil’s outright questions. At first, Phil was worried that Dan was angry with him. The anxiety morphed into outright panic when Dan didn’t even answer when Phil started to call his name in an increasingly desperate voice. Phil knew that it was something much worse than Dan simply being angry with him.

Now, Phil was yelling Dan’s name frantically. Dan was gone. Phil had forced Dan out of his own body, without even noticing it was happening. Phil scrubbed his hands through his hair. Dan’s hair. Fuck, Phil should have never used Dan like this. He thought of the fan that he had met and taken a picture with. He thought about Dan being so lethargic after Phil had possessed him the other day. Phil felt sick. He swallowed back bile that was rising up his throat. He should have never done this.

Phil breathed in slowly, realizing that yelling Dan’s name was doing nothing to help the situation. He had to think fast. He needed to _do_ something. Phil needed to remove himself from Dan’s body and quick. He didn’t want to waste a single second wondering what would happen if he didn’t.

Phil ripped himself from Dan’s body. At first, it felt like all the other times that he had removed himself after possession. There was the overwhelming sense of numbness washing over him, that almost felt comforting this time around. But then, Phil was burning. He didn’t know how, because he didn’t have a physical body, but he was burning. There was fire licking around his non-corporeal form; there had to be. He screamed in agony.

Phil couldn’t leave the flat unless he was possessing Dan. That had been one of the first things that he had discovered upon waking up as a ghost. He had attempted to leave the flat the morning he woke up and separated from his physical body. There hadn’t been any pain when he tried to leave, he just couldn’t. It was like there was an invisible rope tethering Phil to the flat. When he tried to leave, he could sense the tether stretching and refusing to break. But, there was no pain.

But this, this was _pain_. It was physical, mental, emotional fire. If Phil had skin, there would be nothing left of it. There wasn’t room in his head for a single thought other than agony. Phil’s vision was a blinding, searing white.

It felt like an eternity of pain, but it must have only been a millisecond and then it was all over and Phil was back at the flat.

He only had a few moments where Phil enjoyed the relief that replaced the pain. He felt a deep exhaustion that he had never known. It was worse than when he was alive and tried to go to the gym and was worked so hard by the personal trainer that he had vomited. It was worse than that one time that his family had gone on holiday to ski and Phil’s every muscle ached from being on the mountain all day. It was worse than that time in uni when he stayed away for 30 hours, trying to finish an essay. It was worse than after the first time he had accidentally possessed Dan and could only muster out the message that he didn’t have enough energy to manifest himself.

Dan. Phil remembered Dan. How could he have forgotten about Dan? Dan’s body was back in some fucking park. Phil didn’t even know if there was an ounce of Dan left in that body. Phil couldn’t get back to him, could he? Dan was going to fucking die there and it would be all Phil’s fault.

Phil had no energy left, but he had to try… something. Anything to save Dan. Phil pushed past the feeling of utter exhaustion and emptiness that filled him. He concentrated on what he wanted. He wanted to find Dan and help him. He pictured Dan in his mind’s eye. Dan lying on the dead autumn grass, passed out. People gathering around Dan, worried. Someone feeling Dan’s pulse and calling 999. Phil thought about Dan in general. Dan reading in bed. Dan gripping an xBox controller in his hands. Dan speaking into a camera in his “video” voice. Dan hugging Phil. Dan looking at Phil fondly, love filling his eyes. Dan giving Phil the world. Selfless, beautiful, loving Dan. A spike of raw power coursed through Phil and his vision exploded in a sheet of overwhelming white for the second time that day.

Phil pictured his tether, even though he knew it was something that didn’t exist in this physical reality. Still, he imagined a rope. It was black and embedded deep in Phil’s ghostly skin. Phil imagined pulling at it. He could feel the pull; it wasn’t just in his head. Phil concentrated every ounce of energy pulsing inside him, on this single desire.

Eventually, he stopped thinking about the rope or Dan laying in the park. His thoughts just became a litany of “Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan. Please, don’t take Dan from me. Don’t let Dan die because of me. Don’t let Dan miss out on his life because he tried to share it with me. Dan, Dan, please. Please.”

There was a shift. Phil could feel it in the air. He felt a tug, a realignment. A break. Something clicking into place.

Phil blinked and looked around. White cleared slowly from his vision. He was in his familiar ghostly body, despite the fact that he hadn’t purposefully manifested himself. He recognized trees and grass and, he looked down on the ground, _Dan!_ Phil didn’t spare a single second wondering what the fuck had just happened. He dove down and pressed his fingers to Dan’s pulsepoint. Phil was frozen in place, trying to sense Dan’s heartbeat. And, then, yes, he could feel the echo of a weak thump in his ghostly body. Dan was lukewarm, rather than his usual scorching. Phil had stolen the life out of Dan’s body. His face was a sickly grey and his eyes were shut gently.

“Fuck, Dan. Can you hear me?” Phil gripped either side of Dan’s face. He lifted one of Dan’s eyelids. His eyes were rolled back into his head and Phil gasped. Dan’s chest was slowly rising and falling. He had no idea if Dan was even in there, but his physical body was still alive. That was enough for now.

Phil didn’t waste time. He barely even registered that the park was deathly quiet and there wasn’t a single soul around them. He tried to ignore the fact that, by touching Dan, he was just making him colder. Sucking out what little life Dan still clung to. But Phil had to get Dan back to the flat. He slipped his arms underneath Dan’s neck and the back of his knees. Phil closed his eyes and concentrated on the flat. He pictured Dan’s bedroom. White walls, fairy lights, black and white duvet. Where they first met. Where they first touched. Where they first confessed their love for each other. Phil could transport himself, of course, but he had no idea about if it would work while holding Dan. All Phil could do was hope and concentrate, focusing his remaining and quickly draining energy on what he needed to do in order to save Dan.

Phil didn’t know if he believed in a higher power. Or magic. Or the supernatural. He didn’t know what governed his life or his afterlife. But whatever it was, he prayed to it now: please, please, please, please.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Telling by yesterday's comments, last chapter was really cruel! As a fellow human, I'm so sorry. As a writer, muahahah! After finishing this chapter, I finally get to watch the Halloween baking as a reward! Heck yeah!
> 
> Also, I'm going to try very very very VERY hard to have the last chapter of this out by AT LEAST midnight tomorrow (because that's the whole point of this.) But I'm going to be honest, it's only a rough outline as of now. Wish me luck in the form of kudos and comments! ;)

The first sense that he got back was his hearing. Little, familiar noises filtered through his head slowly. Sirens out on the street. The wind moaning past trees and whistling through the city. The quiet creaking of a building settling around him. Soothing piano music coming from somewhere to his left.

Numbness melted away and a little bit of feeling slowly came back to his fingers and toes. They rubbed against something silky and warm. Sheets maybe? A comforting weight lay on top of his body. However, he also felt bone tired. The overwhelming weight of gravity dragged his muscles down and he couldn’t move a single fiber of his body. He concentrated hard, trying to at least lift his eyelids; they refused to move as if someone had superglued them shut.

It was terrifying to be able to sense some pieces of the world around you, but to not be able to see or interact with it. He wondered where he was. What had happened to him that made him feel like this? Was he… dead?

What were the last things he remembered? It was all a blur of clashing emotions and images. The colors were too bright-- a painful cacophony in his head that brought confusion, but no clarity. He lay still, because he couldn’t do anything else, listening to the soft sounds of piano music still coming from his left, and trying to understand what had happened to him by focusing on the individual images swirling in his mind and piecing them together.

Dan had gotten up that morning-- or one morning; Dan had no idea how long he had been asleep or passed out or dead or whatever had happened to him. He had showered, fixed his hair, got dressed, went out for breakfast. What had he had for breakfast? He tried to remember the taste and found that he couldn’t. He tried to remember what he had spooned into his mouth that morning. Sickly, sweet, soft, girlfriend? How did that make any sense? He hadn’t had a girlfriend in years. And girlfriends had nothing to do with food. He thought hard, trying to picture the restaurant. It had been an American style diner. Sickly, sweet, soft. Suddenly, it came back to him: pancakes!

Then the floodgate opened. Pancakes! Pancakes? Dan didn’t particularly love pancakes. Why had he eaten pancakes? Dan tried to remember, analyzing the images swirling around in his brain. Bookstores, Starbucks, comic book stores, clothes shopping, a movie. Then… then? Had Dan simply passed out after the movie? It felt like there was some little piece of the puzzle missing. Something big that had escaped Dan’s mind-- a key to understanding what the fuck had happened to him and why he still couldn’t _move._

“Dan, are you awake?” A soft voice rose up from his left, around where the piano music was playing. Dan froze in fear. There was someone with him. Was he in the hospital? Everything felt and sounded too familiar, though. He was in his own home. So why was there a stranger in his flat? No, not a stranger. The voice was so familiar and Dan concentrated on it, analyzing it because he couldn’t reply to it. The voice was baritone, British, slightly Northern. It sounded loving and deeply concerned. Dan desperately tried to raise his eyelids. Maybe if he could just see the person’s face, he would remember them. The only indication that he was trying to move his lids with all his might, was a slight twitch in his left eye. The person hovering above Dan must have picked up on it though, which was either sweet or slightly terrifying.

“Dan? Dan, can you do that again?” The voice got closer. It was right next to Dan’s ear and Dan might have flinched back if he had the strength to do so. Dan tried to twitch his eye again like the stranger requested, but blacked out once again.

***

Phil had never wished for something so hard as he wished for Dan’s recovery-- not even that one time that he wrote a “book” for his parents that simply said “Can I have a dog?” over and over again in its pages. It hadn’t worked and Phil’s family hadn’t gotten a dog. But, Phil would write a million books begging for Dan’s life if he had to. He would do anything. The problem was, though, he didn’t know if there was a single thing he could do.

Phil sat rigid and unblinking in Dan’s office chair, watching Dan sleep in his bed. A pile of blankets covered his unmoving form. It was every single blanket, sheet, and sweater in their flat. It had been the first thing that Phil had done when he successfully transported Dan from the park to the flat in a exhausting, infinite blink. Phil would never forget that moment in all of his afterlife. It had felt like Phil was trudging up a snow-covered mountain in a ice storm, Dan a slowly dying weight in his arms. Afterwards, Phil had been so completely drained, but he forced himself to place Dan in his bed and cover him with blankets, hoping that they would help his warmth come back to him. Maybe it would restore the life that Phil had selfishly, recklessly stolen away from Dan. Phil didn’t have a single ounce of energy left in him after that. He wanted to cry, but he was just empty. There was nothing left; he felt like a husk of a ghost and that everything had been ripped and milked from him. He had dropped his physical manifestation and observed Dan in his non-corporeal form, like he had when Dan had first moved to the flat.

Phil wished that they could go back to May when Dan had first entered the flat with Paul. If he could just go back, Phil would never reveal himself to Dan. He would have ignored the undeniable tug he felt pulling him to Dan. The attraction to Dan’s dynamic, brown eyes. He would have been contented to observe Dan from afar and simply long to interact with him, like Phil had done for the last seven years with the other renters. If Phil had just done that, he wouldn’t have been able to completely fuck things up. Fuck Dan’s life up.

When Phil had been able to physically manifest himself once again, he put on a pair of thick gloves, maneuvered Dan’s mouth open, and dripped small amounts of water into Dan’s mouth. There wasn’t much left in Phil, except guilt and worry. He didn’t even let himself hope that Dan would be ok. He just took care of the dying man, on ghostly autopilot.

One day turned to two. Phil talked to Dan constantly, wondering if it would pull Dan out of his state of unconsciousness. Phil didn’t apologize or dwell on dark things when talking to Dan, instead he talked about video games, TV shows, YouTubers, whatever inane thing that Phil could ramble about that wouldn’t dissolve into a pained litany of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please wake up.”

Phil had the idea of putting on some soothing music for Dan. Phil knew how much Dan loved piano covers, so he found a playlist of them on Dan’s phone and placed it on the nightstand. Phil continued to feel Dan’s forehead, feed him water to stave off dehydration, and fluff the blankets around him. Two days turned to three and Phil knew that if Dan didn’t wake up soon and eat something, that Phil might lose him.

Phil might have already lost him, not knowing if there was any Dan left in his body. Phil trembled, thinking about what he would have to do with a brain dead Dan. Take him to the hospital? Call Dan’s mum? He couldn’t just leave him…

It was late at night on the third day that Phil saw Dan’s eyelid twitch ever so slightly. Phil, hopeful and scared, had called out to him, but to no avail. Phil didn’t want to get too optimistic, because he didn’t want his hopes dashed painfully. However, the next hour, it happened again. Dan’s eye twitched slightly and, when Phil asked if Dan could do it again, Dan had complied.

Despite trying hard to tamp it down, hope had soared in Phil’s chest. “Ok, Dan, if you can hear me, I’m going to give you some water, ok? I’ll just put a little bit in your mouth. I’ve been making sure you don’t get dehydrated, love. I hope you can wake up soon, so I can feed you some soup or something. I don’t want you getting too weak.” Phil rambled while reaching over to get the glass of fresh water that he had refilled not long ago. Phil took Dan’s jaw in one gentle hand and squeezed. This action opened Dan’s mouth and Phil took the opportunity to let a few drops land on Dan’s tongue. Usually, it would take Phil several minutes to get the liquid to slide down Dan’s throat and several more minutes to repeat the process until Dan drank a sufficient amount of water. This time, Phil watched in stunned awe as Dan’s adam’s apple bobbed up and down immediately.

“Dan! You swallowed! Good job. Oh my god. I hope you can hear me; I’m going to try a little more water, ok? Not a lot, I don’t want to drown you.” Phil tipped a little stream of water into Dan’s mouth and pushed on Dan’s chin with a gentle finger. His mouth closed and Dan’s throat moved again. Phil could hear the unmistakably sound of swallowing. Phil wanted to cry, he was so happy. “Dan,” he whispered brokenly. “I’m so proud of you.” They repeated this process, until Dan seemed to get tired and he couldn’t swallow the water in his mouth. Thankfully, it wasn’t a lot and it just flowed back out onto Dan’s chin and down his neck. Phil got a towel and dried Dan’s mouth off lovingly, whispering quiet praises to him the whole time. Maybe Phil would get Dan back. He didn’t deserve it, but maybe this wasn’t over.

***

More than anything, Dan wished he had some way to tell how much time had passed between each time he woke up. He couldn’t even see how much light was coming through the curtains in his room. He had determined that he was in his own bedroom; it smelled familiar and the bed underneath his body was definitely the one that he had spent a small fortune on.

The voice that spoke to him and the cold hands that fed him water were still a mystery to him. Their identity was always right on the edge of Dan’s mind, dancing in and out of him dreams and thoughts. Dan knew that he knew this person and that they were very important to him, which made his predicament all the more frustrating. How could Dan forget someone who clearly meant so much to him?

The voice was blue for some reason. That’s the color that presented itself behind Dan’s closed eyelids every time they spoke. Sometimes the blue shifted to green. Sometimes there was a little golden ring around the blue. Dan didn’t know why he saw what he saw. But the detail comforted him, like Dan was slowly relating small traits to this person that meant the world to him.

Dan still could only manage to cling onto consciousness for small periods at a time. They grew longer, though. His arms and legs were still heavy and it felt like they sunk deeper into the bed each moment that he lay there. Dan feared that even if he did regain his ability to move at some point, he still wouldn’t be able to get up because he had fused to the mattress. He would be called mattress man, with the ability to sleep anywhere at anytime.

Dan laughed and, although it sounded more like a strangled grunt in his closed mouth, excitement coursed through him. He’d laughed!

“Dan?” Immediately, that excited, hopeful, fearful voice was above him. Their cool, but weirdly textured fingers touched Dan’s warm forehead. The hand carded through Dan’s hair and Dan hummed in the back of his throat. “Oh, Dan.” They sounded relieved and sad at the same time. “Can you say something to me?” Dan could only grunt, hoping it sounded enough like a “no.”

“That’s ok, I’m just so happy you made a noise. God, I love you so much, you know that, right?”

There it was, again. They were always telling Dan that they loved him. Dan knew it was true and agreed with the statement, but was still confused by it. How had he forgotten about his love? Dan made a confused noise, but slowly felt himself drift to sleep again. He could only sort of make out the voice that responded: “You do know that, right?”

***

On the fifth day, Dan spoke his first word ever since falling unconscious. “Food.” Dan rasped, when Phil asked him if he wanted more water. Dan’s eyes were still gently closed.

“Dan! Yes! What do you want? Soup? That’s probably all you can handle. Oh thank god, I’ve been worrying that you’d waste away to nothing. I was getting you all fattened up with pancakes, remember? We can’t go the other way.” Dan responded with what Phil hoped was an amused little coo.

Phil rushed off to heat up some canned soup that he knew was sitting untouched in their pantry. Phil stood at the oven, stirring the pot of soup and willed it to heat faster. Of course, it didn’t work. There were some laws of nature that he had to follow. Phil was beginning to wonder what those laws of nature really were. Before their doomed day out in London, Phil thought he had a handle on what the rules were. But, he had broken so many of them. He had extracted himself from Dan outside of the flat, and he had removed himself from his tether. Phil hadn’t dared to test if the tether was back by trying to leave the flat, because he had to stay and help Dan. He couldn’t leave Dan’s side. Even now, being in the kitchen away from the sickly man, was making him nervous.

When the soup was simmering softly, Phil shut off the burner and poured the food into a bowl. He transported into Dan’s room. “I’m back. I come bearing soup! I think I’m going to have to prop you up, though, ok? My hands might be cold, I’m really sorry. I’ve been trying not to touch you.”

“Ok.” Dan forced out and Phil closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotion inside him. There had been so many dark hours were Phil thought he would never hear Dan’s voice again.

  
“All right. I’m going to slip my arms under your knees and behind your back and sit you up against some pillows.” Phil did just what he had described, trying not to be positively affected by Dan’s warmth against their points of contact. He was never going to take Dan’s warmth again. He would only touch Dan when he had to, and stay far away otherwise. Phil slid Dan up in the bed, noting just how heavy Dan’s limbs hung. His head slumped to the side, his neck unable to hold it up. This wasn’t going to work.

“Hm, I think we’ll have to do something different,” Phil said thoughtfully.

“Ok.”

Phil moved Dan down so he was laying on the bed again. This time, he placed Dan further down the bed, so that there was room for Phil to sit cross-legged at the headboard. He did so, pulling Dan up, so that his head was propped against Phil’s chest. “I hope I’m not too cold. I’m sorry.”

“S’ok.” Dan replied, slurring slightly.

“Ok, no more talking, I want you to have enough energy to eat.

Phil propped his arm up and put Dan’s head in its crook, sort of like a parent about to bottle feed a baby. If Dan had been himself, he would have squawked at the compromising position. Phil reached over to the bowl of soup, wondering where the hell he was supposed to balance it. He put it on the bed, fluffing the blankets around it, and hoping that it wouldn’t tip over. Knowing his clumsiness, he would knock it over within minutes.

“Ready, Dan?”

“Mm.” Dan agreed from the back of his throat, following Phil’s advice and not speaking. He opened his mouth and Phil placed the spoon on his tongue, allowing the broth to spill off slowly. Dan closed his mouth and swallowed and Phil could cry with relief.

In fact, he did shed a few silent tears. They slipped out of the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks. Dan was eating. Dan was speaking! He was alive and not brain dead. Despite everything that Phil had done, he had gotten a second chance. No, Dan had gotten a second chance. Phil continued to feed him. He got through half the bowl of soup before he was unable to open his mouth one more time. Phil silently placed the spoon back into the bowl and put the bowl back on the nightstand. Phil curled both of his arms around Dan, cuddling him close. He carded one hand through Dan’s hair and softly ran the fingers of his other hand down his cheek. Phil cried softly, “I’m so glad to be getting you back, Dan. I love you. I love you.”

***

His name was Phil, Dan realized. Phil was holding Dan close to his chest, rocking back and forth, and whispering to Dan that he loved him. His name was Phil and he was a ghost. The ghost of a wonderful man who had met an untimely, unfair demise. Dan had met Phil and his life had completely changed; they had made each other feel alive in totally different, but also similar ways. His name was Phil, he was a ghost, and Dan loved him with all of his still-beating heart.

“Phil,” Dan whispered, his voice breaking. How could he have forgotten Phil? What was wrong with him? Dan used all his remaining strength to crack open his eyelids. Everything was too bright, despite the fact that a single light was on, somewhere across the room. Things were blurry to start with, but he focused his eyes, like adjusting the aperture on a camera. The first thing that Dan saw clearly was Phil’s crying face staring down at him. Blue-green eyes rimmed in gold were studying Dan’s barely-open eyes. Phil’s features were painted with shock.

“Dan? Oh, Dan.” Phil cupped his cheek and leaned down, almost as if to kiss him. Dan prepared himself for the shock of cold that he knew would spark against his lips, but Phil seemed to catch himself and stop. Phil was always so careful of Dan, like he was fragile. Breakable.

“What?” Dan forced out, trying to ask Phil exactly what had happened to him. Why was he in bed? Why could he barely move a muscle? Why did cracking open his eyelids and saying single words fill him with so much exhaustion that one would think Dan had run a marathon?

“Shhh,” Phil held up a cold, but gloved hand up to Dan’s mouth. “You’ve done a lot; you must be tired. Sleep now.”

Dan’s eyes drifted shut. He did feel incredibly sleepy. Everything was so heavy and the warmth of the soup radiated out from his stomach. Without much convincing, Dan’s eyes were slipping shut. Even the lids of his eyes ached with intense fatigue. “I love you, Dan.” Phil whispered, ghosting his fingers over Dan’s eyelids, caressing them softly. The coolness felt perfect against their delicate surfaces.

“Love you,” Dan mumbled and then quickly fell away to the world.

***

Dan’s recovery was steady, but incremental. Phil still couldn’t quite believe that Dan was back. Dan still didn’t know what had happened to him-- it was like there was a chunk of memory just completely missing and none of the images in his head seemed to fit into the blank space. Another day went by and Dan slowly gained the ability to fully open his eyes for longer periods of time and say complete sentences. Phil still had to help him eat, feeding him cans and cans of soup.

Despite the fact that Dan could speak again, he was afraid to ask Phil what had happened to him right off the bat. Dan guessed that it wasn’t anything good and, telling by the way that Phil looked at him like he would disappear into thin air at any moment, Phil was still very much anxious about it. Dan had simply asked how long he had been out for and if Phil had thought to tweet something so that people didn’t think he was dead. Responsible Phil had, of course. He felt dirty pretending to be Dan after everything that had happened, but he wasn’t about to let the world worry that they had lost their beloved Daniel Howell.

Dan wiggled his fingers and toes, wondering when he would get the full use of his arms, legs, head, torso. The movement rippled the blankets stacked on him and Dan caught a whiff of his own body odor. Phil was by his side, as always, rearranging the items on Dan’s nightstand. It was more something to do with his hands, rather than something that Phil needed to do. “Phil, I stink.” Dan voice was weak, but sounded a lot more powerful than the simple rasps he could only manage the day before.

“That makes sense. It’s almost been a week since… you showered.” Dan could tell that Phil had wanted to say something else, probably about what had happened.

“Right. Phil, what exactly happened to me?” Dan curled his hands into fists just because he found that he could. The new movement excited him and he was about to inform Phil. He released his fingers and they sunk tiredly into the mattress once more. Dan discovered he couldn’t move them again.

“You don’t remember?” Phil sounded devastated and guilty. Dan’s eyes darted up at the ghost.

“Oh, uh, no. Actually, when I first woke up, I couldn’t even remember who you were.” Dan chewed on his lip. “Imagine that. It’s like forgetting myself.”

Phil didn’t respond. Instead, he sat down on the edge of Dan’s bed. “I wish I could help you out with the whole, uh, shower thing. But I can’t exactly give you a bath with gloves on.”

“They’d have to be surgical gloves. But, it sounds a little humiliating. Like a nurse giving an old man a sponge bath.” Dan laughed shortly. He didn’t really have the energy to continue talking. Phil must have noticed.

“You should get some more sleep.”

“Mm. Can you tell me what happened, though?” Dan wasn’t going to let this go, no matter how much Phil wanted to repress it.

Phil sighed and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. “Of course; you deserve to know.” Dan hated the tone that Phil’s voice adopted. It sounded like the conversation that they had at the beginning of the month when Phil told Dan how he had died. Dan shivered involuntarily, his skin rippling. It felt weird after a week of numbness.

“I possessed you. We went out for the day, but after we saw a movie, you stopped responding to me.” There was an echo of a memory there. Dan remembered that his vision had gone black and that he refused to tell Phil there was a problem. That had been stupid, he had to admit. “I didn’t even notice how quiet you were being,” Phil said bitterly. “I was a selfish, horrible person and you nearly died because of it.”

“Phil,” Dan admonished, wishing he could reach a hand out and touch the ghost. “You can’t do this. It wasn’t your fault.”

Phil breathed in slowly. “Of course it was my fault, Dan. I was the one possessing you. I was slowly driving your consciousness out of your body and I was having so much fun, I didn’t even notice.”

“Phil--”

“--so I tore myself out of your body the minute I figured out what was happening. I was transported back here but I… I… left.” Dan looked at Phil, confused. He had left? Left the flat? How was that even possible? One of the first things that Phil had ever told Dan was that he was tethered to the flat and couldn’t leave.

“How?”

Phil looked at Dan, a wobbly smile making his chin tremble. “I don’t know. But it worked and I brought you back here. And here we are.”

“Here we are.” Dan agreed, his lips weakly lifting up at the corners. “I’m ok, Phil.”

“Yeah,” all of the tension drained out of Phil’s shoulders. “You’re ok.”

***

And Dan really was ok. It took an additional week of laying in bed, sleeping, eating increasingly solid foods, and trying new movements with his body, before Dan could finally pry himself out of bed. Finally, the day came that Dan could shakily step out of his now disgusting mattress, leaning on Phil the whole way. He steered Dan toward the bath that was already filled to the brim with steaming water and a tower of bubbles. Phil helped Dan undress, finally taking off the clothes that had been on Dan’s body for entirely too long.

“I wish you were undressing me in a different context,” Dan tried to joke as Phil lifted his shirt over his head. He popped through the other side and immediately saw that the comment had made Phil sad, rather than amused. “Sorry. Bad joke.” Dan apologized, his head ducking into his chest.

“I wish I could properly love you. Instead I just near kill you.” Phil said bitterly.  
Dan held up a single shaky finger as Phil eased his trousers off. “Hey. You didn’t kill me. And it was my fault for being stupid enough to not tell you that I was getting weaker. If I had just asked you to go back to the flat, then nothing bad would have happened.” Dan stepped out of his trousers one foot at a time, his hands braced on Phil’s shoulder. “Plus, now we just know what my limits are and what to look out for when you are possessing me.”

Phil’s head snapped up and he stared at Dan incredulously. “I am never possessing you again.” He said it with such vehemence, that Dan found himself hunkering down involuntarily.

“That’s silly, Phil. It’s not going to happen again. We are smarter now.”

“Never again. You can’t convince me otherwise.” Phil picked himself off the floor and held Dan by the elbow. His voice grew softer, almost apologetic. “Are you ready for your bath?”

“Oh man, this is some nurse slash patient roleplay if I’ve ever heard it. I’m ready for my bath, Nurse Lester. I’m especially dirty _down there,_ if you know what I mean.”

“Daniel!” Phil admonished, helping to lower Dan down into the tub. Things felt almost like they were back to normal.

Within a few days, Dan’s strength returned fully. Him and Phil were back to watching TV, playing video games, and making a short video for Dan’s channel so his subscribers didn’t revolt. He got tired easily, but he got his full range of motion back. With that, came a ravaging hunger that couldn’t be quelled by the empty contents of his pantry or refrigerator.

“I need to go to Tesco. I am starving and totally sick of soup.” Dan shut the fridge, only to find Phil right behind it, looking worried. Dan jumped. “Jesus fucking hell, you made me jump!”

“Sorry. I’m nervous to let you go out. What if you pass out again?”

“I’m not going to pass out.” Dan rolled his eyes. “Stop babying me. I’m fine.”

Phil nodded. “Of course, I’m sorry. I’ve just been worried. I thought-- I thought I was going to lose you.”

Dan ran a hand soothingly down Phil’s arm. They were always wearing gloves and sweaters now; it was just an automatic. But Phil had been noticeably more distant with the touching and cuddling, even though Dan wanted it now more than ever. Dan knew that Phil was just worried and that he didn’t trust himself. Dan didn’t know if Phil would ever trust himself again. “I’m ok. Well, I will be ok once I get some food in my stomach before it eats itself.”

Dan found a thick coat and stabbed his arms through it. He picked up his wallet, keys, and phone and slipped it into his back pocket. He was actually excited to leave the flat for once. It had been two weeks and, even then, it hadn’t really been him leaving the flat that day. Dan found himself itching to smell the autumn air and step on the crunchy leaves. “Stay safe.” Phil said as Dan reached for the doorknob to their flat.  
“I will!” Dan replied brightly, opening the door and stepping outside it. The elevator ride down to the lobby was comfortingly familiar. Dan greeted each of his neighbors brightly and only some looked at him, suspicious of his manic joy. Outside, Dan was pleasantly assailed by a powerful breeze, sweet with the smell of decaying leaves. He was adjusting his coat to cover his neck and about to hail a taxi when he felt a presence at his elbow.

Dan dropped his hand and pressed it to his chest instead. “Whew, you frightened me, mate.” Dan turned and saw none other than Phil, standing at his side and looking sheepish.

“Turns out, I must have formed a new tether,” Phil said shyly.

Dan could only grin.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I didn't quite make my goal of posting on Halloween (I'm about 3 hours late). The thing is, I didn't want to rush this ending. I wanted to do this story (and the characters) justice. That's why this is so long! Anyway, thank you all for your support as I have updated this. The comments have been so fun to read and I'm gong to try to respond to some of them, especially those of you who left little paragraphs. Those are like gifts to me! I love you all <3 I hope you enjoy!

Before the possession accident, Dan and Phil thought that they couldn’t get any closer, but they were wrong. Because now, everywhere Dan went, Phil followed. He had to follow. Before, the pull Phil felt toward Dan had been completely metaphorical, but now it was physically magnetic and he couldn’t resist it. They could only conclude that, somehow, Phil had broken his tether to the flat and had reattached it to Dan. It was the “how” that they really didn’t understand, not really believing “sheer force of will.” They also didn’t really know what the new tether meant. Surely it had some deeper significance; it wasn’t just a meaningless prison for Phil. Dan would never be Phil’s prison.

Dan had seemingly made it his life’s work to read up on why Phil was now spiritually and physically connected to him. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot of information out there. The only answer that was consistent throughout the dodgy websites that Dan browsed, was that a ghost might be unable to leave somewhere or someone that they had unfinished business with. But, Phil hadn’t known Dan in his life. How could there be unfinished business between the two of them?

It was frustrating to try to find answers and also have to sift through _bullshit_. There were thousands of people always trying to feed him misinformation or sell him potions, tarot cards, and charms. As always, Dan was finding more information about interesting, but unimportant supernatural things.

Sooner or later, Dan figured that he would take what he could get. Phil had refused to possess Dan again and, figuring that Phil wouldn’t change his mind, Dan had made it his mission to at least find something else that they could experiment with. Dan knew it would take a lot of convincing to get Phil to test some other ghost power, but that didn’t stop Dan from trying.

Along the way, though, Dan found something that piqued his interest and he poured over page upon page of information about it. For once, there was some history backing it up. A whole religion, in fact, that was still being practiced to that very day.

“Phil, have you ever heard of Samhain?” Dan finally asked the ghost sometime during the end of the week. It was the end of October. Halloween was coming-- it was only a couple of days away. The few trees outside their flat had been stripped of their leaves by a powerful, unrelenting wind. Dan was freezing and, for once, it had nothing to do with Phil’s touch and everything to do with the fact that winter was coming. Dan was in his sofa crease and wrapped in a sweater and thick, faux fur blanket, reading intently at his macbook. The steam from a hot cup of tea was curling up from the coffee table in front of him. Phil played the strangely cute horror game, Little Nightmares on the Xbox, yelping in surprise and terror every time he got jumpscared. Mirthful giggles replaced the screams and Dan couldn’t help but smile along. The scene was almost idyllic, especially after weeks of sadness, fear, and slow recovery.

Phil sighed and paused the game, turning his head to look at Dan. The peace of the evening was shattered by Dan’s question. “No. If this is another one of your ghost experiments… I’m not doing this again. I almost lost you the last time.” Phil nervously spun the wireless Xbox controller in their air. Dan ignored both Phil’s serious expression and the piece of technology hovering in front of him.

“Yeah, I know, but this is different; hear me out. Samhain is a Pagan Celtic holiday,” Dan began. Phil groaned and dropped the controller. It clattered on the rug-covered hardwood floor and Phil flopped back next to it.

“I’m not going to--”

“I get that, Phil! I get it, ok? You’re scared. I’m not. Now shut up and listen. I’m on a legitimate website: the BBC for chrissakes.” Phil clamped his mouth shut and stared at Dan upside down from the floor.

“Fine. I’ll listen. But I don’t have to do anything that I don’t want to do.”

“Yeah, and water is wet.” Dan flicked his blanket out of his face. “So Samhain is a holiday that marks the Feast of the Dead. It’s on October 31st.”

“So, it’s Halloween’s origin,” Phil said, exasperated. “What does this have to do with us?”

“Well, if you’d just listen, then you’d know,” Dan huffed out a breath and scrolled to a part in the article that he wanted to read aloud. Phil clamped his mouth shut. “They believed that “it was the time of year when the veils between this world and the Otherworld were believed to be at their thinnest: when the spirits of the dead could most readily mingle with the living once again.’” Dan looked up from the screen, his eyes shining with an excitement that Phil didn’t really understand.

“I don’t get it. I’m already “mingling” with you, Dan.” That was the understatement of the century. Dan and Phil didn’t need “Samhain” to be with each other nearly 24/7. It had gotten more intense ever since they had discovered that Phil was literally tethered to Dan. The ghost couldn’t be very far away from the living man; a few hundred feet was about as long as Phil’s invisible “lead” could stretch. Dan had made a lot of jokes about leashes and puppy play. Phil had been anything but amused.

“Well, that’s just it, Phil. So, the Celts thought that there was this boundary between spirits and humans that became thinner and allowed the two to interact. We don’t have that kind of boundary, but there is another between us.”

Phil furrowed his brows, focusing deeply on what Dan was saying. “Well, it used to be that I couldn’t leave the flat.”

Dan shook his head, “no, that was one of _your_ boundaries, but not the boundary between us.” Phil quirked his brow thoughtfully. Were there really any boundaries between them anymore? They talked about anything and did everything together. Phil had been _in_ Dan’s body. They could touch. Well… could they really? Phil glanced down at his gloved hands. Their touch wasn’t really genuine or mutual. It was so one-sided that Phil had mostly put a stop to the casual cuddles they used to share. Clarity came to Phil suddenly.

“It’s touch, isn’t it? I mean, I _can_ touch you. But I can’t really do it without hurting you.”

“That’s the only boundary that I can really think of. But, on Samhain, the Celts believed that the boundary between the living and the dead dissolved.” Dan inclined his head eagerly.

Could it really be that easy? That on Halloween, some sort of boundary could be broken between the two and they could touch? Or that a boundary would just dissolve? Would Phil want to do that? He thought back to how very wrong possession had gone. He would never be able to rid himself of the terrifying image of Dan laying on the dead grass, his limbs splayed around him unnaturally and his face a deathly grey. Could something like that happen again to Dan? “I dunno, Dan.”

“Here’s the thing. This doesn’t require you to do any ghostly things to my body. I’ve looked into Samhain a little and it’s very much like Halloween. We’ll light a fire in the fireplace, because they had bonfires. We’ll eat a bunch of food, because they celebrated the day with a feast. We don’t have to do any animal sacrifices or rituals. I might just find a little prayer to say.” Dan gripped the edge of his blanket so hard that his knuckles went white.

Phil sat up uneasily and tossed the Xbox controller back and forth in his hands. “This still feels wrong, though. Like, are bastardizing someone’s religion for our own gain?”

“How is it anymore wrong that someone only going to church on Christmas and Easter? Or giving each other presents and pretending to be the easter bunny on sacred Christian days?” Dan raised his right eyebrow at Phil, looking at him expectantly. “Well? Is it any different?”

Phil considered his answer carefully. Was it really any different? Why did he feel so uneasy about disrespecting this Pagan religion, when the bastardization of the Christian religion was so normalized, commercialized, and even encouraged? Maybe it was because this holiday felt more real… felt more serious. And, was that a good thing? Did that mean that this would work? “I… I guess it’s not any different. But, if we are gonna do this, let’s just try to be as respectful as possible. Maybe we can find someone who celebrates the holiday. Get their help. Use the internet.”

A small smile grew on Dan’s face and his eyes widened. “Wait, does this mean you’ll try it with me?”

Phil breathed deeply and studied Dan’s eager face. Was he going to do this? The thing was, it didn’t seem harmful to Dan. Phil wasn’t going to enter Dan’s body, possess him, and use him like a skin suit. Phil couldn’t even believe there had been a time when he thought that was a smart idea. But no, there would be no Dan-possessing. They were going to have some dinner and try to touch each other. If Dan felt the usual spark of cold pain, they would stop and their life would continue as normal.

And if it worked? Hope grew in Phil’s chest and he squashed it quickly down. He wasn’t going to let himself get on that train of thought. If it worked, then it worked. But, it probably wouldn’t. “I don’t… see why not. It doesn’t seem dangerous.” Dan sprung from the couch, shoving the laptop off his knees and onto the sofa cushion. He landed painfully on his shins with a loud crack. He ignored the pain shooting up through his bones and gathered the ghost in his arms.

“Thank you, thank you! I have a good feeling about this. Something warm and _right_ is just growing in my belly.” Dan clutched Phil’s shoulders, driving his face deeper into Phil’s icy chest.

“But,” Phil carefully pried Dan off of him, strong hands on Dan’s shoulders. He held Dan’s happy gaze. “You are going to tell me everything. If you feel even a little bit off, you have to tell me. I don’t care what it is. Your vision flickers? Tell me. You lose feeling in your fingers? Tell me. Your ass cramps up? Tell me, damn it.” Dan’s face fell with a mixture of embarrassment and guilt, and Phil felt bad immediately. “What happened wasn’t your fault; it was mine. But if we can prevent something bad from happening again--” Phil’s voice broke.

“--Phil,” Dan interrupted, “we’ve already discussed this. It was completely my fault. You’re not the bad guy here.”

Phil didn’t disagree with Dan out loud, but Dan could see it all in his face. Dan didn’t know if there would be a day that Phil didn’t blame and hate himself for what had happened to Dan. But, maybe they didn’t have to dwell on what was in the past. Maybe they had so much more to look forward to in the near future. Dan pulled a reluctant Phil close to him, “I promise to tell you if anything feels off. But we have to do this; we have to. I can feel that it’s the right thing to do.”

***

Dan considered asking his followers if any of them were Wiccans or Pagans and if he could pick their brains about Samhain, but ultimately decided against it. He didn’t know how it would look for him to suddenly be asking about a Pagan holiday; he couldn’t exactly claim that he was making a video about it, or that he was suddenly becoming religious. Plus, he didn’t want to take advantage of anyone for his own gain. Those were the sorts of things he had to worry about as a YouTuber.

Instead, Dan found a Wiccan using the normal-people way. He googled it. Since it was an actual religion, and not just ghost-hunting bullshit on the internet, he found someone legitimate pretty quickly. Late into the night on that same day that Phil had agreed to try a Samhain celebration, Dan was scrolling around on a Wiccan forum, when a particular post caught his attention: “A Beginner's Guide to Celebrating Samhain” by amod3rnwitch. The article was simple and insisted that anybody could celebrate Samhain. It outlined some of the traditional modern ways to put together a Feast of the Dead. At the end of the article, the author invited anyone to come to them with questions, judgement free. Dan quickly made an account through the forum and messaged the user.

 _Hi, amod3rdwitch, my name’s Dan. I am interested in celebrating Samhain this year, mostly because I want to have contact with a friend of mine who passed away. Do you have any recommendations? I don’t want to be insensitive to the religion._ Dan clicked send and leaned back in bed. Phil was at his elbow, reading on his iPad.

“I feel silly.” Dan said, switching tabs to yet another article about Samhain. “Five months ago or whatever, I would have described myself as completely agnostic. I didn’t believe in the supernatural. Only cold, hard science. Now, here I am asking someone who describes themselves as a “modern witch” how I can accurately celebrate a Pagan holiday.” Dan skimmed over the article, despite the fact that he had already read it.

Phil lowered the iPad into his slightly translucent lap. “Hmm, I understand. I was a little bit more superstitious when I was alive. I did a little dabbling in tarot cards and other forms of divination. My grandmum was a psychic, did you know?”

“I didn’t know. Did she pass her powers down to you?” Dan said teasingly, poking his finger into Phil’s belly.  
  
“Y’know, there were some times that I thought she might have. Wait, let’s test it. Think of a word and I’ll tell you what word you’re thinking of.” Phil widened his eyes and trained their piercing blue irises on Dan. Phil lifted his hands and paddled his fingers in the air, “I’m building the psychic connection,” he explained.

“Of course.” Dan smiled fondly. “Ok, I have a word.”

“Mmmm…” Phil closed his eyes. “Meme!” He called out confidently.  
  
“Nope!”

“Toast?” Phil responded, a lot less confident this time.

“Toast? No, you spoon. I’m thinking of my favorite word.” Dan leaned his head back into his pillow and smiled softly at Phil.

“Ummm…” Phil pretended to think. “Is it Phil?”

Dan traced his finger in little swirl patterns of Phil’s thigh. They left little trails of warmth in their wake. “Mmmhm.”

“No fair, that’s not a word, it’s a name!” Phil pouted.

“Names are words.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

They could have gone on for hours, probably. But Dan looked down at his laptop and noticed a little notification in the corner of the forum’s tab. Had amod3rnwitch already responded? Dan clicked on the tab, finding that she had, in fact, responded to his inquiry. True to her assurance in the forum post, she was very nonjudgmental and kind.

_Hi, Dan. I, for one, love to include anyone interested in the religion, no matter what purpose it serves. In fact, plenty of people have watched some of my rituals for purely academic reasons. I’ve outlined a couple little things you can do to celebrate Samhain. If you could find a High Priest or Priestess to lead a ritual for you, it would probably be better. Either way, I wish you luck to you and your friend from beyond._

_Blessed be,  
_ _Beth_

Below the message, Beth had typed out how to build a simple altar to the dead. Among other things, she also recommended that Dan wait as close to midnight to begin the festivities. Dan read through the suggestions and showed Phil, positioning the laptop between them. Phil read silently to himself, his face betraying every emotion that he felt, as always. Uncertain, appreciative, then slightly disgusted.

“Dan, you are not making an altar to me.”

***

But, Halloween-- Samhain-- came and Dan was planning on doing just that. That day felt like any other day. Dan woke up early afternoon and pretended that it was morning by taking a shower, checking his social media like it was the morning newspaper, and tweeting his obligatory Happy Halloween tweet. At first, both of the the boys ignored the elephant in the room and didn’t really talk about their evening plans, despite the fact that odd little Samhain materials were strewn throughout the flat. They served as a reminder for what could possibly happen that night. When making breakfast, Dan pushed a gourd and pumpkin out of the way so that he could place his bowl on the counter and pour in a generous helping of Shreddies. When he put the milk back in the fridge, he had to tuck it behind a couple of loose pomegranates. As Dan placed his cereal bowl on the table to eat, he pushed a black tablecloth to the middle of the table. Instead of talking about what the materials were for, Dan and Phil chatted about the new season of Stranger Things.

The boys had gone shopping for their odd items the day before. Dan and Beth had messaged back and forth. He wondered if he sounded weird or suspicious when he asked her what he should cook for the celebration and if he should say some blessings. She had answered like none of it bothered her… which it probably didn’t, since this was her religion.

Dan spooned the last mouthful of cereal past his lips. Over his mouthful, he asked, “are we gonna talk about this?”

“Talk about what?” Phil replied innocently. His head was rested in his cupped hand as he watched Dan eat. Of course Phil knew exactly what Dan was talking about; he hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Obsessing over it. Worrying. In 12 hours, Phil was either going to be able to _touch_ Dan, or it would have been a complete waste of time and energy. And there was always the possibility of something going wrong. Phil didn’t know exactly what could go wrong, but he was still mindful of the possibility.

Dan swallowed and dropped the spoon into the bowl with a loud clatter. “You know exactly what, smartass.”

Phil shrugged in response. “There’s not much to talk about. Either it works or you just look like an idiot, making an altar to your ghost lover. Like, talk about creepy, Dan.”

“What can I say? I’m Phil trash number one.”

Phil snorted and they got up and washed dishes together. Dan scrubbed, enjoying the feel of the hot water on his freezing hands-- he really had to get the flat’s heat checked out. Phil dried, unable to stop himself from bumping his hip into Dan’s companionably. The rest of the day passed uneventfully and slowly, as if they were two little kids waiting for Christmas day to come. They tried to pass the time by watching cooking shows and showing each other funny videos on the internet. It didn’t matter how much they distracted themselves, the sun took its sweet time slinking below the horizon, as if it didn’t want to say goodbye to the sky.

As midnight slowly crawled closer, Dan found himself thinking back on his last few months. He didn’t even remember what his life had been like before Phil. Had it really even been a life? Sure, he worked and made money. He spent his money and watched TV and played video games. He visited friends, wishing he was home the whole time. He celebrated holidays with his family, mostly because he was obligated to. But had he really enjoyed any of it?

Phil had made him slow down and appreciate the whole life thing. Each day was a renewed opportunity to breathe and taste and feel and think and learn. It could be taken from him at any moment, so there was no point in being anything other than happy. And being with Phil made Dan happy. It was heartbreaking and painful and terrifying at times. But, Phil was also the most wonderful, beautiful, kind person that Dan had ever met.

Dan had no idea how the rest of his life was supposed to go; he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with a dead person. People didn’t do that, unless they were lying to some tabloid. People were supposed to find a living, breathing partner and pop out a couple of kids. They were supposed to raise the kids, make more money, retire, and then die, Dan guessed. Phil seemed to think that it was unfair of him to stop Dan from living this kind of life, but Dan couldn’t disagree more. He felt that Phil had saved him from this fate. A meaningless fate that simply controlled Dan. By loving Phil, Dan was finally controlling his own destiny. It was cheesy, but true.

This didn’t mean that Dan didn’t wish he could tell people about Phil. People had noticed that he had become distant and were worried about him, but also noticed how much happier he was. Dan wished that he could take Phil by the hand and parade him around, showing him off for the whole world to see.

And then, of course, Dan was continuously heartbroken that Phil had lost out on his chance for life. It had been so unfairly ripped from him. What would happen to Phil when Dan eventually died? Would he be forced to live out the rest of his afterlife alone?

Dan was plagued by thoughts of the future. But for now, for tonight, he had a plan. Dan and Phil had something to do, a new experiment to try. If Dan could touch Phil one night a year, it would sustain him for a lifetime with Phil. After that, Dan could only hope that they could share an afterlife.

10:00 PM rolled around after a fifth rerun of The Great British Bakeoff and Dan figured it was time to work on their dinner. Beth had suggested some “traditional” meals that were still, thankfully, modern. Dan appreciated that Beth was down to earth enough not to suggest something ridiculous like “first you must sacrifice a goat and slaughter it on the altar you have built for the ghost you are trying to summon.” Instead, she recommended a baked chicken, with stuffing and autumn vegetables. It was a lot more grandiose than anything Dan made on the regular-- he stuck with stir fry and pasta-- but it wasn’t past his skill level, especially if he had Phil’s help. Phil had proven to be quite adept at cooking and Dan had been more than willing to let him make Dan meals.

“Is it bad luck for you to make your own meal?” Dan asked, genuinely curious, as he watched Phil carefully place the stuffed chicken and vegetables into the oven.

“I dunno,” Phil said, turning around and throwing the oven mitts at Dan’s face. “We are kinda making this up as we go, if you haven’t noticed.”

Dan huffed and caught the oven mitt on its way down to the ground. “We are not! We have followed every one of Beth’s suggestions.”

“Except for, you know, the whole fact that her ritual is for inviting spirits to dine with you and speak wisdom. I can already dine with you, although the food won’t taste like much to me. And here’s some wisdom: you’re a nerd.”

  
Dan spluttered and swatted at Phil’s bum with the oven mitt. “You’re the nerd, nerd. Now help me build your altar.”

Phil rolled his eyes and mumbled something about “crazy fanboy stalker,” but helped Dan anway. They lit a fire in the small gas fireplace in the lounge (“Why a fire? Beth didn’t say anything about a fire.” “Look, it just seems right… aesthetically.”) Dan spread the black tablecloth over their dining room table. (“The black is fitting for you, Dan. It should be blue and green checked if it’s for me.” “Shut up, it’s symbolic.”) They scattered black candles, tiny pumpkins and gourds, and pomegranates across the table, strategically and aesthetically rearranging them. Dan and Phil lit the three large candles and then stepped back to admire the table. Even Phil had to admit, it looked good. If anything, it was a perfectly spooky Halloween aesthetic.

“Oh! I almost forgot. It’s missing one more thing.” Dan bounded to his bedroom and dug out a small item from his bedside drawer. He returned with it clutched to his chest. “Don’t laugh at me, ok? This is just a thing that Beth suggested might help.” Dan placed the object in the middle of the table, revealing it to be an unassumingly small picture frame. Inside the frame was a photo of Phil. Phil leaned over, looking closely at the picture. It had been printed out on regular printer paper, meaning the color was less than vibrant. He picked it up and studied it. It was recent: a little candid shot that Dan had snapped on his phone before the possession accident. Phil’s hair was cut into its 2017 style and his eyes crinkled with smile lines. It was weird to look at a picture of himself; it was the first one in at least seven years. Phil didn’t really make it a habit to look at himself in the mirror, after he had grown tired of trying on clothes and changing his hair. He found that he didn’t like the constant visual reminder of his ghost state. It was hard to tell he was a ghost in this picture, though.

“I… wasn’t sure if I should have gotten a picture of you from before you d-died.” Dan stuttered over the word. “But, it just didn’t seem right. I don’t want that Phil, I want you. Does that make any sense?”

Phil placed the frame back where Dan had carefully set it down. Next to the candles and black tablecloth, the altar was looking uncomfortably like a memorial. Phil hadn’t seen his own funeral. There was some sick piece of him that almost wished that he could have watched his loved ones mourn for him. A much bigger piece of him was glad that he didn’t have to watch it. “It’s a good picture,” Phil said simply. The jokey atmosphere that had filled the flat beforehand was replaced with something more sombre and reverent.

Dan shut off all the lights in the flat and powered down the technology, placing his phone, laptop, and Phil’s iPad in their bedroom closet. Beth had emphasized the need for the celebration to be quiet and free of distractions. And it felt very right for the altar to be enveloped in silence.

The chicken was ready to come out of the oven and it was twenty minutes to midnight. Dan stared at the table and decided that it was time for them to eat. Dan gestured to the head of the table, silently asking for Phil to sit. They didn’t say a single word to each other, mutually deciding that speaking would be inappropriate. Dan carved the chicken and served Phil first, spooning a generous helping of meat, vegetables, and stuffing onto Phil’s plate. He felt a little silly, knowing that Phil couldn’t really taste anything. Eating for him was like playing pretend, and he often told Dan about how weird Phil felt about the fact that none of the food ever came back out of him. Despite the feeling, Dan continued with the ritual. He served himself similar portions and then sat down.

Dan and Phil watched each other for a moment. Dan could tell that Phil was feeling similarly. Despite Phil being a supernatural being, neither of them really believed in the ritual. It just seemed too mythical, too far-fetched. Dan nodded to Phil and they began to eat.

At first, it seemed like any other meal eaten in the dark by candlelight. But, a noticeable lightness settled over them. The only sound that could be heard in the flat was the quiet tinkling of cutlery on plates. The candles flickered, casting the table in a strange, dancing light. Shadows grew and shrunk in the flames. With each bite, the shadows seemed to grow more and more unnatural. They weren’t frightening, just unfamiliar. Dan stared at them, almost hypnotized by their strange shapes. He gradually forgot about any of his previous disbelief.

Phil felt strangely calm. A peace settled over him, along with a quiet realization that tonight would change their lives. The epiphany came over him softly, like waves licking over his body. He wanted to tell Dan, but knew that he couldn’t break the spell of Samhain.

They ate their last bite of food at the same time. Any other time, they might have joked back and forth about their creepy synchronization. But tonight, neither of them thought it weird. Just right. The wind whistled outside their flat. Dan glanced at the clock on their kitchen wall and saw that it was a minute to midnight.

He had memorized one of the blessings that Beth had provided him with. She had sent along a whole archive of them and Dan had read through every single one, finding the prayer that felt the most appropriate. Now, he spoke those words, looking at Phil the whole time. Fire was reflected in Phil eyes, the blue and orange mingling together. The elements colliding in Phil’s irises. Dan watched, rapt.

“To those whose feet are stilled,  
and those who laugh with us no more.  
To you we say, our love was with you here  
and goes with you now… to that place  
where you rest and take delight.”

When the first candle’s flame flickered out on the other side of the table, neither Dan or Phil noticed, they were so entranced in each other. Dan’s eyes were an intoxicating brown and orange, reminding Phil of autumn soil. Both were rich and full of life.

“May your feet walk along the coffin paths  
to that place where all is fresh and green,  
where lovers, friends, and ancestors wait  
with open arms to greet you.  
Go in peace, and with our blessings.”

Both, however, noticed when the candle in the middle of the table went out with a soft hiss. Black wax dripped down the side and solidified in a wobbly line. Joyful darkness encroached in on the flat.

“Or remain awhile this eve, with us  
the living, and life and hearth, and love.  
Be rested amongst your own, this eve  
this one night, this Samhain.”

Dan paused and held Phil’s gaze, hoping that the weight of his words were sinking into Phil’s mind and into his ghostly flesh and into the thin, liminal air between them. There was magic, there, he realized. Of course there was. There always had been. Now, it brushed tenderly against his skin and ruffled his hair. It flowed between him and Phil; tendrils of magic curling around their tether.

“With countless turns of the wheel  
we miss you, be near us this eve,  
we pray ever for you…  
And we will meet again, once more  
when the wheel turns for us.  
Pray be there to greet us, in that place  
we will walk the coffin paths together  
and bide awhile with kin and hearth  
until that time be near us.  
Our kinsmen,  
our guardians,  
our ancestors,  
our beloved dead.”

The last candle between them lost its flame and comforting darkness engulfed the flat. The clock continued to tick and Dan knew, without looking, that the face would read midnight. Dan’s eyes adjusted to the lack of light and picked out Phil’s form from among the shadows. Dan reached his hand out slowly, like the wax crawling down the candlestick in front of them. Phil followed suit, eyes trained on Dan’s fingers. His head was surprisingly, blessedly quiet. He knew. He’d always known.

The moment that Dan and Phil truly touched for the first time was warm.

“Dan.” Phil whispered, unwilling to break his silence, but realizing he had to. He had to touch, to speak, to confess. He didn’t know how long this was going to last. He couldn’t waste it. But already, the feeling of a single fingertip against his was overwhelming.

“Phil.” Dan returned calmly. He curled his fingers around Phil’s and tugged, pulling them both out of their chairs. “You feel…” Dan closed his eyes briefly and that was enough to communicate the sensations dancing across his palm.

“You too.” Phil responded almost shyly, shivering despite himself. This wasn’t like possessing Dan. Phil still couldn’t smell anything, couldn’t feel the draft on his bare feet, couldn’t taste the chicken that he had just eaten. But none of that mattered because, this was a thousand times better than using Dan like that. Phil could feel soft skin in his hand. He squeezed and could detect the give of muscle, the strong pushback of bone.

Dan led Phil to their bedroom. They stood for a moment, contemplating each other. Tension pulled taught and then snapped and Phil finally pulled Dan into his arms. He reveled in the warm, living press of Dan against his body. Dan felt tears prick the corner of his eyes because, finally, touching Phil didn’t hurt. It felt like it should-- hot, pleasant, solid, soft, perfect. Perfect, perfect.

They tilted their heads and inched their lips toward each other. Dan’s hot breath puffed out and over Phil’s face. The gap between them grew smaller and smaller until:

All at once, there was no gap at all. Phil and Dan both had imagined this kiss a thousand times, thinking that it would never happen. Dan sighed into the kiss and Phil purred. It was so human, and that was all either of them ever wanted. They didn’t want fireworks and wind machines, dramatic rainstorms and fainting. It was a hot press of muscle and skin against similar muscle and skin. Sweet, quiet, perfect. Perfect, perfect.

Phil opened his mouth ever so slightly, inviting Dan in deeper. With deepness, came passion. They began to move and suckle. Hands traveled up shirts and across skin, painting each other with eagerness and love. Phil explored with a curious tongue and he was greeted by sweet, blissful wetness.

Sooner or later, they found themselves on the bed. There was nothing in between them. Not the supernatural boundary between death and life. Not the physical boundary of clothing. They pressed up against each other; trying to marry each of their every last atom of skin. They moved together, grinding and sweating.

“Phil, I love you.” Dan said, breathlessly. Phil was between his legs, seemingly everywhere all at once. He kissed, sucked, grinded, caressed, stroked. Dan tried to keep up, but found that he was more than contented to allow Phil’s frantic exploration and clutch at the ghost’s back in response. Dan wrapped his legs around Phil’s back and stroked the skin with shaky hands, intrigued by the goosebumps that he left in his wake. Phil shuttered at the smallest, most innocent touches and Dan felt intoxicated by the power. “God, I love you Dan Howell.” Phil responded, slipping a wet finger inside.

They moved together, adding, slipping, thrusting. Their most intimate body parts strained toward each other, begging for attention. Phil’s got attention before Dan’s as it slipped into Dan’s body. Twinges of pain were quickly replaced with reverberations of pleasure.

Phil cupped Dan’s face in his hand and stared at him lovingly. Phil loved Dan with every fiber of his supernatural being. His DNA sung Dan’s praises and vibrated with electric pulses. He was overwhelmed by sensation; this was more than he had ever felt, even when he had been alive. He had never made love when he was alive. Phil kissed Dan deeply, their tongues twisting together and caressing each other. He reached down between them and grabbed Dan, rubbing, massaging.

They chased a mutual climax. Their bodies strained toward each other and they kissed wildly. Dan’s hands touched everywhere he could reach. Phil’s thumbs rubbed softly into the skin of Dan’s face. Tears began to leak out of Dan’s eyes. They slipped down his cheeks and coated Phil’s fingertips. “Don’t cry, love.” Phil said, feeling his peak sneaking up on him.

“I love you. I will always love you. Whatever timeline, whatever lifetime.” Dan responded, his voice reverent and wise beyond his sight.

“Oh, Dan.” Phil thrust one final time and they both came together in a crescendo of emotion and physical pleasure. There were no ostentatious metaphors, no past memories, no historical or fictional references to compare it to. It was simply an act of life and humanity, and that was all Dan or Phil ever wanted.

They rolled over on their backs and Phil gathered Dan in his arms. They lay together, silent. Together, they just felt. They felt pleasure, waves of it sending aftershocks through their bodies. They felt happiness, pure and overwhelming. They felt sadness, because it would never be the same again. Phil clutched at Dan for dear life and began to cry. Dan made soothing noises and rubbed Phil’s back. “I can’t go back to a life without this, Dan. I can’t” Phil snuffled into Dan’s hair.

Dan was pressed into the sweaty skin of Phil’s neck, wondering how much time they had left. He knew exactly what Phil was talking about. How were they supposed to just… carry on like nothing had happened? It wasn’t possible. Dan knew that he would remember this night every day until it could happen again. That wasn’t a way to live. “I know, Phil.”

Phil opened his eyes and pulled Dan away from him slightly, just enough to look into his red-rimmed eyes. He leaned down and kissed Dan. His lips trembled against Dan’s. Dan could taste salty tears; he had no idea if they were their own or Phil’s. “Dan, do you see that?”

Phil was staring up at the ceiling, suddenly, looking awed. Dan followed his gaze, only seeing the rough texture of the wall. “See what?”

Phil glanced down at Dan, mouth agape. “You’re telling me you don’t see a whole lot of darkness right above us?” Dan looked up again, only seeing the normal shadows of the night on the ceiling.

“No?” Dan’s brows furrowed and he stoked his fingers down Phil’s neck. “What’s it look like, exactly?”

“Um, black. Just a… hole. It should be scary, but it actually looks, welcoming?” Phil responded, sounding confused.

Dan closed his eyes, understanding immediately. Of course. Phil’s unfinished business with him. “Phil, I think you should go toward it.” Phil twitched like a shock had gone through him.

“You don’t think....” Phil reach his fingers up toward the black portal, feeling the comforting energy that it gave off. It drew him to it.

“I do think.” Dan communicated silently to Phil and they both understood exactly what was staring down at them.

Phil turned his head away from the thing’s siren call. He cradled Dan’s head in his hand. “I can’t leave you, Dan. I can’t do this without you.”

Dan leaned into Phil’s touch, wondering if the first time he could feel Phil’s warmth would also be the last. What would the rest of his life be like? Could he ever get over Phil? Would he even try? Despite the worries eating at him, Dan knew that he couldn’t keep Phil from his great beyond. No one deserved to be imprisoned in a world that wasn’t made for them. Seven years had been long enough, and it was time for Phil to move on. Dan felt at peace. Dan whispered to Phil with finality, trailing his hand up Phil’s neck, into his hair: “And we will meet again, once more when the wheel turns for us. Pray be there to greet us, in that place we will walk the coffin paths together and bide awhile with kin and hearth until that time be near us.” Dan didn’t know if they would meet again in death, or if he was promising Phil something else entirely. Either way, the words seemed to calm Phil ever so slightly. “You have to do this, Phil.”

The clutched at each other desperately, their mouths meeting in a kiss. Only an hour after their first, they were already sharing a kiss goodbye. “I don’t know if I can do this,” Phil cried into Dan’s shoulder after they separated. “What if I never see you again?”

“You will.” Dan said confidently. He believed it; it wasn’t a bullshit platitude. Dan pushed himself up into a sitting position. “This is fitting. We met in this room.” A quiet tear pushed its way out of Dan’s duct, despite the fact that he was trying to keep his voice even as possible.

“Dan, don’t--” Phil choked and his voice broken. Tears were spilling out of his eyes hurriedly.

“The very first thing you said to me was an apology.” Dan smiled, letting himself remember the day that changed his entire life.

“And rightfully so; I gave you a panic attack.”

Dan snorted. “I get a panic attack if someone looks at me funny.”

“You do not.”

“Do too.”

Dan and Phil looked at each other and laughed through their tears. They laughed long and hard, holding each other’s hands. Because, this was the way they did things. They made self-deprecating jokes and lewd comments and made fun of each other relentlessly. They had never wanted it any other way.

“It’s time, Phil.” Dan squeezed the ghost’s hand reassuringly and Phil looked up to the ceiling, feeling unsure and scared and sad and lost. But Dan urged him up out of bed and let go of his hand and gestured up at the ceiling.

And Dan had always been stubborn, but Phil also knew that he was right. It was time. He allowed himself to float up toward the ceiling and was enveloped by a comforting, soul-emptying blackness. There was nothing for while.

***

And then: the initial notes of Muse’s New Born filled his ears and he flopped back on his bed. Things were ok, he supposed. He was home, which wasn’t his favorite place to be so late in his life. His parents were sweet, but suffocating. And they didn’t understand what he was going through.

He found solace in the depths of the internet and the friends that he had made on YouTube. They seemed to understand him. Not exactly what he was dealing with, because he didn’t explain that to his audience-- of course he didn’t. But they seemed to at least relate to his ridiculous mind and he appreciated that.

He turned on his side, propping himself up with his hand, and opened his laptop. It had been awhile since he checked twitter. He typed in the familiar url and looked at his feed. He favorited and responded to a few tweets, thinking entirely too long for witty and zany things to say. He saved his replies for last, because they were his favorite part. He had a few, not a lot. But one in particular stuck out him:

_‘danisnotonfire: @amazingphil luvd ur last video ^_^ i love muse too we have so much in common!’_

Phil clicked the tweet and typed out a silly, slightly flirty response, smiling to himself. Something was interesting about this danisnotonfire; he didn’t know what exactly, but he was going to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a lot of research into Samhain to write this chapter. I even met with my friend (who is a High Priestess) to talk about how she celebrates the Feast of the Dead. I tried to be accurate and respectful of the holiday/ religion. I hope all those out there who practice Wicca and happen to read my story feel respected <3

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this fic, please consider dropping a comment, kudo, or reblogging it on tumblr. I especially appreciate a reblog, because then more people can enjoy the fic! Thank you :) Reblog on tumblr [here!](https://phantasizeit.tumblr.com/post/166796265862/trying-to-remember-how-it-feels-to-have-a)


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